


Prince of Ice

by emblem_oracle



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Discovery, Emotional Turmoil, Established Relationship, Fun with Politics, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 55,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7256452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emblem_oracle/pseuds/emblem_oracle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s a wonder you have remained unaware of your heritage for so long, Prince.”</p><p>Soren breathed in a sharp gasp of air, his hand finding a nearby bed post for support. He couldn’t be hearing this. It was ridiculous. Preposterous. There was no way he was…</p><p>There was no way his blood was of Daein. How could it be? He had been raised in Gallia, lived his life in Crimea. How could he be a part of such a country? A country that had done little but poison the lives of the people who encountered it.</p><p>"That's... ridiculous... you can't be serious," Soren hissed through the haze. Yet, his mind was already connecting the pieces together and they fit a little too well for it to be a lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This concept has probably been done to death but I have never seen any stories on it nor have I written one so I thought 'Ehh, why not?' Also, there are so few multi-chaptered stories completed for these two and that makes me sad. Thus, this was created! I hope someone gets some form of entertainment from this though.
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE! - Blood and violence (although nothing too graphic) will appear in this fic. I will mark these chapters in the A/N's, as well as anything else I think could be considered triggering (although I will be somewhat vague for spoiler purposes). Please proceed, as always, with care.

"Hayy, have you heard about that tactician boy?"

"Tactician boy?"

"The one who was the strategist for Ike, Hero of the Blue Flames."

"Oh yes, I've heard of him. He's got quite the reputation. What about him?"

"Well, apparently he is the lost heir to the Daein throne."

"What?! He's Ashnard's lost heir?"

"Yeah. Apparently his mistress revealed as much."

"Then is he going to rule Daein?"

"Don't know. Possibly. Lady Micaiah has yet to be crowned; he probably could take the throne, if he wanted to. Problem is he's missing."

"Missing?"

"Yes. He and the Hero recently left on a journey to unknown lands. Adventuring stuff. I hear people are trying to hunt them down, though."

"Hmm… that's interesting. What was the boy's name again?"

"Soren, I believe."

~~X~~

_South of Begnion, Year 650_

_Region of Peresis_

The book felt light in Soren's hand. Thin and dog-eared, the stitches which formed the spine had loosened and frayed; leaving many pages missing through the years (much to Soren's annoyance). The mage usually wouldn't invest in a book so beyond the point of repair. However, the price hadn't been too harsh on their expenses and his need for information had won out. Careful not to drop the tome, lest he ruin what little remained of the work, Soren lightly touched the parchment pages as he read.

_'Hyruloth was an island off the coast of Crimea. While some of the land survived the Goddesses' wrath, most of the area was submerged. Still, many artifacts remain which help us to understand its culture...'_

The mage made another mental note to mention this to Ike when he saw him.

Soren's hair was swept by the sea breeze as he shifted against the bark of a tree, hidden in the shade. His skin had began to burn in the sunlight despite his precautions, his face and hands red and sensitive. He furrowed his brow and continued to read. The heat made it difficult to concentrate but the tome was surprisingly informative and - although translating from the old tongue was tough - it was doable with his experience. 

A deep voice asked, "Learn anything interesting?"

Soren jumped, almost dropping his book. Ike had the grace to seem apologetic. 

The sleeves of Ike's tunic were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the tanned muscle beneath. What drew Soren's eye, however, was the leather satchel thrown over Ike's shoulder and the crimson leg of beef poking out of it.

"Ike," Soren nodded in greeting. "I hope you bought vegetables as well." Soon, they would no longer inhabit the world within Tellian borders. They needed to be prepared and meat alone would not sustain them. Still, odds were that hadn't stopped Ike. 

Ike's headband fluttered in the breeze and he shrugged. "I'll buy some later. We have time till we leave."

Walking closer, he lowered himself and sat down beside the mage with his back to the bark. Their shoulders brushed together as Ike settled and Soren had to resist the urge to tense up. An old habit that he was trying hard to kick. 

"Apparently there was a continent known as Magvel before the flood," Soren said, in answer to Ike's question. "You have probably heard of the 'Tale of the Sacred Stones?'"

Ike scratched his cheek in thought. "Is that the one with the twins and the best friend who gets possessed by the Demon King?"

"That's the one," Soren nodded.

"I thought that was just a fairy tale?" Ike said. 

The mage's brow furrowed in thought. "The tale itself's probably a myth but it's possible the continent itself existed. If that's the case, then some part of it could have also survived the flood."

The sides of Ike's lips curled upwards and he nudged the mage lightly with his elbow. "That's an oddly optimistic statement coming from you."

Soren snorted. "I wouldn't expect it to become a recurrent theme. But in any case, it's possible we could find something."

Ike smiled for a moment more before the sides of his mouth began to dip. Soren raised a brow. "Something wrong?"

The swordsman gestured to his face, leaving him a little confused. Then he remembered the flush across his face; the mark of the sun's heat. "You should go inside the next time that happens," Ike said. "You're so pale. I don't think I've ever seen you with a tan."

The mage offered a small smile as a response. Such considerations for his health were something he was slowly adjusting to, despite rarely doing what Ike suggested. Soren wouldn't be surprised if Ike knew that he wouldn't listen. Still, he appreciated the concern.

With a sigh, Ike stood from his place before casting down a hand. Accepting the gesture, the pair walked together back towards the inn where they were staying. As they walked, the mage found himself closing his eyes, listening to the faint bustle of the town and the air as it swept through the branches of the trees which crowded the path.

They didn't talk as they walked. Soren embraced the serenity. 

~~X~~

With this town, the pair finally decided that they had gathered as much information as they needed for their impending journey.

With the destination set in their minds, they made their final preparations. More food was bought (mostly vegetables, at Soren's insistence) as well as a heal staff, two tomes, another sword (at Ike's insistence - iron to preserve their funds) and some extra cloth to mend any damage that may occur to their clothing. They were too poor to completely freshen their wardrobe, not that they wanted the extra baggage anyway.

It was as Soren was packing herbs into his bag that a knock sounded on the door. Momentarily stopping his packing, the man waited a moment to ensure that the sound was indeed coming from his and not another door down the hall. When the knock sounded again, the mage carefully picked up his tome from the bed and headed towards the sound. Ike never knocked. Whoever the person was were unlikely to be welcome; not that he ever welcomed people in anyway.

Opening the door, Soren eyed the innkeeper (a rather short woman, smaller than him, with red hair pushed back in a bandanna) and a man whom he had never seen before. Soren noted his formal clothing. His torso was covered by a deep blue jacket with buttons (' _Gold_ ' he mused) lining down its middle and breaches which were no doubt equally expensive to obtain. The man also had light blue hair that cut off at the chin. Soren's first thought was that he was a noble of some sort, judging from his dress, but that seemed unlikely. Ike had renounced his lordship long ago.

"Yes?" Soren asked, raising a brow. "Do you need something?"

"You are Sir Soren, correct?" The man beside the innkeeper spoke. Weary by his knowledge, the mage placed his thumb between the pages of his tome, ready to cast if necessary. One does not survive two wars by trusting such oddities.

"Who is asking?" Soren asked carefully, deciding against answering his question. His eyes narrowed to focus on the man. He didn't seem to have a weapon on his person but Soren knew that many were skilled in concealing weapons from sight.

"Apologies. I am an ambassador from Daein, Ambassador Mavus. Forgive my dishonourable manner," the man said as he tilted his head in a bow.

So he _was_ nobility and a Daein noble at that. Perhaps it was unfair of him, but Daein always seemed to bring with it bad news. Soren swallowed down the uneasy feeling that bloomed within him in favour of a blank stare.

After a brief pause where he waited for Soren to reply, the Ambassador moved the conversation along. "I would like an audience with you, Sir Soren."

"An audience with me?" Soren pressed his lips into a thin line. "I admit, I fail to understand what your motive is, Your Excellency."

"I will tell you in due time. May I enter?"

After a moment where Soren weighed the odds that the man was a fraud, the mage reluctantly nodded; moving aside to let the man through. Despite the gesture, Soren kept his tome propped slightly open with his thumb. If he were attacked, he was more than prepared to retaliate. He refused to be caught off-guard.

The mage gave a nod to the Innkeeper to dismiss her as he shut the door. When he turned around, he saw the ambassador scanning his eyes over the room with a grim expression. Soren suspected that he considered the barren room to be somewhat beneath him. It was clearly rented cheap, with only one bed which would be considered too small for most (especially since it needed to fit two bodies) a desk which wobbled when a person tried to rest against it and a stool which was barely big enough to sit a child comfortably.

Soren gestured to that wooden stool now, suppressing a snide comment. He knew better than to provoke foreign nobility for little reason, in spite of his thoughts on their customs. Although he had few qualms about questioning the quality of character of both Queen Elincia and Skrimir, he had felt justified then and he had known the chances of him facing repercussions for his actions were smile.

Upon sitting on the stool, the ambassador turned to Soren again who remained stood. After another short silence Soren asked levelly, "Your Excellency, what business provokes this visit?"

The Ambassador thought for a moment, as if wondering how to begin, before he spoke. "Sir Soren, have you had the honour of being acquainted with Sir Pelleas?"

"We talked briefly during the war. Mostly as enemies. What about him?"

"Are you aware of his heritage?"

"I know a little about the stories surrounding him, if that's what you mean. He was rumoured to be the son of the Mad King, but this was truthfully only that. A baseless rumour. I hear he has abdicated his throne now and that Micaiah, the Priestess of Dawn, is to take his place."

Soren was careful to keep his opinions out of his speech until he learned the man's agenda. Soren's opinions on Pelleas were far from favourable; feeling that the revelation that Pelleas was a fraudulent king had been a blessing in disguise for Daein. Pelleas was too meek to rule a country and he had been little more than a puppet king during his time in office. Yet, he doubted that this would go without challenge should he say this aloud.

"Is this all the information there is, as you know it?" the ambassador pressed him.

"Yes… though I fail to see what you are getting at, Ambassador Mavus," Soren stated bluntly. "As I said, I have only spoken with him briefly. If you wish for information on Pelleas, you would do better to meet with the dowager queen of Daein or the Maiden of Dawn." Soren frowned. "Then again, I doubt that your coming here has much to do with Pelleas."

The Ambassador sighed at his deduction. "You are correct. What they say about you being remarkably quick to catch on is true."

"If you have some other agenda, please get on with it. I don't see the point behind your questioning. All it does is waste my time."

The Ambassador straightened, caught a little off guard by the mage's forwardness. "Very well," he said finally. "I will speak plain. I trust you are aware that the rumours claiming Ashnard had a lost heir were not entirely false. His mistress has confirmed their authenticity."

"Yes, I suspected so. Lady Almedha wouldn't exactly accept a child as her own if she had never given birth, now, would she? Are you here regarding said heir?"

The Ambassador nodded, brushing his hair over his shoulder. "Indeed. Are you also aware that Lady Almedha bares laguz blood?"

Soren blinked. "…no, I was not aware of that," he admitted.

"As you may have deducted, then, her child was born Branded. Ashnard was no laguz. That was perhaps what finally determined that Pelleas was not, in fact, Lady Almedha's child. There was doubt since its curse can skip generations but Lady Almedha was sure this is not such a case." The Ambassador glanced at the brand on his forehead and his expression noticeably scrunched up in contempt before then his eyes found Soren's again. "Your mixed blood makes itself clear on your very forehead, Sir Soren. Your likeness to the late king is negligible, but you and Lady Almedha look very much alike."

Soren gaze focussed on the Ambassador, finally seeing the implications in his words. ' _No, he can't be trying to imply that,'_ his mind intervened. _'There is no way that I am…'_ Yet, this suspicion of what the Ambassador was going to say next clogged his mind more than any other conclusion he drew.

"What are you trying to imply here?" he found himself saying through his thoughts. As the moments passed, his conclusion seemed more and more likely but he needed the confirmation. Soren suddenly felt dizzy.

"It's a wonder you have remained unaware of your heritage for so long, Prince."

Soren breathed in a sharp gasp of air, his hand finding a nearby bed post for support. He couldn't be hearing this. It was ridiculous. Preposterous. There was no way he was…

There was no way his blood was of Daein. How could it be? He had been raised in Gallia, lived his life in Crimea. How could he be a part of such a country? A country that had done little but poison the lives of the people who encountered it.

"That's... ridiculous... you can't be serious," Soren hissed through the haze. Yet, his mind was already connecting the pieces together and they fit a little too well for it to be a lie.

He remembered Almedha then, the one time she had talked to him. Did she know when she'd called out to him? Soren had noticed that they shared a likeness - he would would need to be blind not to see their similarities - but he never considered something deeper. Almedha didn't mention anything when she had spoken to him and had kept his legacy hidden away. Did she do it because she cared or because she didn't?

Soren usually could analyse matters with a calm mind. Now he struggled to understand anything at all.

The idea that in his veins pumped the blood of Ashnard made him shudder. He couldn't process the fact. ' _What would Ike think',_ Soren thought with clenched teeth, ' _knowing that he is sharing a bed with the Branded son of the Mad King?'_

Soren would blame luck but Ike decided that now was the best time to return from his trip. He jolted upon spotting the Ambassador who rose to bow. "Lord Ike," he greeted, a small smile gracing his face. Soren said nothing. What could he say? Soren didn't even know what to think. He felt like he was drowning in the whir of his thoughts.

Why did he have to be Ashnard's child, of all possible people? The Gods must spit at his happiness. Part of him wanted to dismiss the idea as a falsified joke to discomfort him but the amount of sense it made caused it to be impossible to dismiss.

"Uh… hello?" Ike replied after a beat, turning from the ambassador to Soren for an explanation. Ike eyes narrowed in both concern and confusion when saw the glassy look in his eyes, how his skin had paled to a degree even more than usual. Ike turned back to face the stranger. "Have I interrupted something?"

The Ambassador smiled weakly. "I think he's had a bit of a shock, if that's what you are asking."

Standing up from the stool, he walked over to Soren who just stared at his feet. The ambassador spoke slowly, trying to crack through the ripples of Soren's mind. "Whatever you wish to do regarding this information, ultimately, is up to you. However, you should travel to the capital for a while unless you wish to create complications later on. Your true heritage is slowly becoming common knowledge and this could make you a target for bandits and rouges that would kidnap you for ransom."

"...so you are forcing me into the position?" Soren said quietly, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

"No. You can choose to abdicate your birthright or live such a life. The former should free you from the kidnapping risk without you having to stay for a prolonged period. Despite what you eventually decide to do, I will return in a few days after you have had time to process this information. From there I will either escort you to the capital or I will take my leave of you, depending on your decision. So, for now, I say farewell to you, highness." Soren flinched at the title. Ike didn't seem to have heard.

The Ambassador turned to leave but Ike quickly blocked the door, seeming even more confused than before. Ike looked at Soren again and his frown deepened, then back to the Ambassador. "What were you here for?" He asked bluntly, not moving from his place in the doorway. "To make threats?"

The Ambassador was noticeably smaller than Ike (in both height and body structure) but he did not seem deterred. "I will leave that information in your friend's hands, Lord Ike. I trust he will inform you when he's ready. Now, please may I pass?"

Ike looked at Soren again who still stared at his feet, gripping the bedpost still. When Soren gave no signal of having paid attention, Ike let the man pass with a sigh.

Ike shut the door and the room became silent as Ike stared at his companion. As his companion refused to meet his gaze. "Soren… are you alright?" Ike asked.

Soren swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. His gaze moved to his hand on the bed post then to his other hand which had managed to drop the tome at some point. He couldn't bring himself to even look in Ike's direction.

Soren had always thought that being Branded was the worst his heritage could become. He silently cursed the Gods for making him feel, yet again, like his blood was something to be damned.

The mage snapped himself out of his thoughts long enough to register Ike's footsteps on the floor, slowly heading towards him. "Soren? What did that man say? What's wrong?"

Soren felt his mouth open then shut several times, struggling between wanting to spill out the reason for his mind's disquiet and not being able to face the reaction he would receive. Soren's back slid down the side of the bed until he fell to the floor, a numbness spreading through him at the thought that his life had, once again, managed to make a mockery of his happiness.


	2. Chapter 2

For a long time, Soren was unable to bring himself to mention the truth to Ike. It wasn’t so much that he felt Ike would reject the fact his blood made him nobility. Ike had proven once before that he didn’t care what his blood made him; whether he was Branded or nobility, Ike couldn’t care less. It was one of his best qualities. Part of Soren doubted that Ike would even care overmuch about him being the son of the Mad King.

However, another part of him cautioned with the fear that Ike may not be able to look at him the same after admitting to something like this. Ike had a personal vendetta against Ashnard (he had killed him, for gods sake) and even if that wasn't the case, Ashnard was infamous for his instability. Ashnard had ruined the lives of so many and Soren was of his bloodline. He was his son.

Soren considered how warped that made his relationship with Ike. The mage was sharing a bed with his father’s killer. Soren didn’t care what others thought of their relationship but he cared about Ike's more than anything. Would Ike be disgusted by what this revelation made them? Soren didn’t know.

So, he kept the Ambassador’s words to himself like he could forget them if he never spoke of them. 

Still, that didn’t mean Ike was going to let the matter drop. He never pressed him outwardly, at first (perhaps trying to be considerate) but Soren could tell from the look on his face that he was trying to throw the pieces together. Whenever Ike met his gaze, his expression would soften in an attempt to encourage his words.

Yet, Soren refused to talk. He refused to even reference the event for days.

It wasn’t until the Ambassador sent a message of his return in two days’ time that Ike decided enough was enough.

“Soren, I know whatever that man said has hurt you but come on, you can’t keep doing this to yourself."

“I don’t want to talk about it, Ike,” Soren mumbled, tightening his hand on his quill. He stared at a blank piece of parchment laid before him and found his mind blank for written words.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it! But keeping silent isn’t making you any happier. You have been upset ever since he visited. Just tell me what he said!”

“No."

“We have been over this before. Has he got something on you? Is that why you won’t say?”

“Ike, just stop it!” Soren hissed and his chest burned as Ike stilled, eyebrows furrowed deep into a scowl. Soren rarely used such a harsh tone against Ike and it showed in the lines now drawn across Ike's forehead. 

All too aware of the growing dread within, he forced himself to stand firm. "Can we just let his matter drop? Please?" 

Ike registered him for a moment, his mouth set in a grim line. If he was at all offended by Soren’s outburst he had cleverly masked it but his displeasure at the words was obvious. “Fine,” he ceded after a moment, “I’ll let this go for now. But you are going to have to tell me eventually. I don’t know what this man wants from you, but he is coming back in a few days and I'm not foolish enough to let you go alone. I will probably find out from there, anyway, so I really don’t understand all this secrecy. You know you can trust me with anything, Soren.”

Soren, despite himself, smiled weakly. “I know I can trust you, Ike. Every time I have ever doubted that was so, you have proved me wrong...”

There was a brief silence as Ike studied him and Soren could almost see his thoughts spiralling in his mind. Ike was not much of a thinker by nature, preferring to see what needed to be done and doing it. He disliked the time it took to carefully plan his actions; an approach Soren favoured. However, that didn’t mean Ike didn’t have his moments of deliberation. Of all the things Ike was, being thoughtless was not one of them.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ike finally spoke. “Is this to do with you being Branded?” He asked bluntly. Soren stiffened. “You only become all secretive when something to do with being Branded comes up. Like when Nasir threatened you. But, you should also know by now my thoughts on your being Branded. So, as far as I can tell, that man is either threatening to expose you or he has told you more information on the matter. Am I wrong?”

Soren found himself staring at the desk, unable to meet Ike’s gaze once again. If he didn’t feel so ashamed by his own cowardice, he probably would have congratulated Ike on his deduction skills.

Realising he wasn’t going to get an answer again, Ike sighed. The mage inwardly noted that he was trying his best not to seem irritated. “Soren, can you just please tell me yes or no? I will leave you alone if you do.”

Despite his own aggravation, he couldn’t bring himself to chide Ike for his insistence. _‘He is pressing you because he wants to help,’_ he reminded himself.

“…yes, it is partly due to do with me being Branded,” Soren admitted finally, fiddling with the sleeve of his robe. A nervous habit. He hoped Ike wouldn’t see through it.

“Alright,” Ike said and the matter was dropped, as promised.

~~X~~

The day before the Ambassador was set to return, Soren decided that he couldn’t keep their destination hidden any longer. Although Soren hadn’t tried particularly hard to deter him, Ike had been pretty insistant that he was making the trip with him. “We are headed for Daein,” Soren said as they completed their packing for the trip ahead.

“Daein?” Ike raised a brow. “That man wants to take you there?”

“Yes, and you should probably know that man is actually a Daein ambassador.”

“Wait, what? We are dealing with the royal family? Is this about Micaiah? You said she was Branded, right?”

“Yes, the Maiden is Branded."

“Has she summoned you?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“Has someone else summoned you, then?”

“… no one in particular has summoned me, to the best of my knowledge.”

“So… you know rather little about all this, then,” Ike said. “That’s rather unlike you.”

“Yes, I guess it is.”

Soren knew that he truly couldn’t keep his secret from Ike much longer. The minute they arrived in Daein everything would be revealed and he knew Ike would be hurt if it came to that. Yet, it was a struggle. Unlike when he hid the fact that he was simply Branded, which affected him alone, his relation to Ashnard influenced Ike too. Ike despised and had the honour of killing the Mad King. How would Ike feel, knowing he was with the son of a man who had caused such destruction.

Ike always preached the importance of family and Soren worried he would reflect that idea onto him if he admitted the truth.

Yet there was a part of him that soothed his concerns, bringing up past times he had revealed secrets to Ike. He always took the news better than he would have hoped. Maybe it would be the same for this. Soren doubted he would react quite so calmly to this news as he had the revelation of him being Branded, but it may not be wholly negative. Soren clung to this hope as his fears suffocated him.

 

~~X~~

 

“Ike,” Soren began as he lay on their shared bed, his gaze drawn to the candle on the bedside table. The flickering of the flame both mesmerised and blinded him, leaving ghosts upon his vision as he lowered his gaze to study the dripping wax.

“Yes?” Ike replied, pulling off his boots ready for bed. Ike cast a large shadow against the light, almost concealing the desk in the corner with his muscle and height. He propped his shoes at the bed’s foot.

“How much effect do you think a parent has on their child?” Soren asked carefully, as a way of leading up to what he truly wanted to say. Despite his lack of love for meandering conversation, he couldn’t bring himself to just spit the truth out and face the consequences.

Ike undid the clasp on his belt before he answered, “Um… it depends on the child, I guess? I mean, Father had a massive effect on me and why I wanted to learn to wield a sword but Mist never really followed him at all. She focussed on healing injuries, instead. Then again, in that sense, she is a lot like Mother…” He mulled the question over for a moment as he placed his belt on the chair. “Then there are people like Kurthnaga who don’t seem much like their parent at all. I guess it depends on the relationship the child has with them. Why?”

Soren took a breath to calm his nerves. “It’s… to do with the Daein ambassador.”

Ike paused in the removal of his shoulder plate and turned his head to look at Soren. He didn’t vocally respond but gave a small inclination of his head to encourage him to continue.

Soren stared past Ike, watching the flame of the candle. “They… know who my parents are.”

Ike shifted his body to face him, giving Soren his full attention. When the conversation lulled for a moment, Ike kept silent to give him time to speak.

Soren bowed his head, finding Ike’s softened expression both a distraction and a comfort. “They… I…” Soren struggled with how to put it, wanting to cushion the blow of his words and not knowing how. “…I… I am… Ike, it isn’t good.”

“Soren, I have told you once before, I don’t care who your parents are. You don’t need to be afraid.”

‘ _How can you say that Ike?’_ Soren thought as he reached out to grab Ike's wrist, as if the contact could make his fears leave him. _‘How can you say that when you don’t know…?’_

Soren tightened his grip and closed his eyes. Ike rested his other hand on top of it. _‘Just say it,’_ he thought. _‘You have gone this far.’_

“Ike… I-I…I am...” He felt like he was choking on his words, wanting to talk but not knowing how. It reminded him of his childhood, when the only language he knew was ancient tongue. In the end, Soren decided to take another deep breath. Trying to console himself with images of Ike’s past kindnesses, he said braced himself. “I am the son of the Mad King, Ike… Ashnard… I am his heir." 

And now it was said.

Ike's body went rigid and Soren heard his breath hitch in shock. He refused to open his eyes; not wanting to see how he had reacted.

A moment passed where neither of them breathed or moved. A sense of wrongness grew inside Soren as Ike didn't move for several more moments, breath caught in his nose.

Then Ike’s hand slowly began to clench his own. He didn’t speak immediately. Soren suspected from the gesture that he was more lost for words than disgusted. Still, he couldn’t relax. Not without confirmation. “Soren…” Ike mumbled, sounding more concerned than pitying. “Are you sure?”

“Yes… I share a likeness to the dowager queen, Almedha. You met her once yourself.”

“Ah, yes… I guess I can see the resemblance, but Soren… this is insane. You, Ashnard’s son… It’s difficult to believe, I admit.”

“I know.”

“Wow.”

“And, in case you hadn’t realised,” Soren said as he opened his eyes, “this makes me heir to the Daein throne.”

“Oh.”

“Yes…”

Ike’s grip tightened slightly, hurting the mage’s hand a little. Soren didn’t complain; the pain helped him to forget his still present nerves. When Ike spoke again, his tone was sombre. “Does this mean you are going to rule Daein?”

Soren glanced into Ike’s eyes and realised that now, it was Ike who couldn’t meet the other’s gaze. “I don’t know,” Soren replied honestly. “I don’t want to, and I could theoretically abdicate the throne but… such things are complicated and take time. I don’t know if it would be something easily achieved.”

“I see.”

“Does this bother you?”

Ike looked into his eyes again, his expression betraying his disappointment. “… I would be lying if I said it didn’t, honestly. We have just escaped all the frivolity of the nobility and now we are being pulled back into it again. I was happy to finally be away from it all, you know?”

“I know. Me too. If you wanted, you could journey on without me and I will return to the capital.” The words brought him pain even as he suggested them.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ike brows furrowed and the pain eased.

“Doesn’t the fact I’m Ashnard’s heir bother you?” Soren pressed, having noticed Ike’s lack of comment on the fact. 

“Well... I do dislike Ashnard but that’s an issue I have with him, not you. I never judged Pelleas for when it was thought he was of Ashnard’s blood and I won’t judge you either. You will always be Soren to me before you are anyone's child.”

Soren breathed a sigh of relief at his words, visibly relaxing. At the action, Ike relaxed too, hand loosening against his own. 

There was a brief silence but it felt more comfortable than tense. Ike gave a small smile and gently squeezed his hand before releasing it. 

“We should get some sleep,” Ike suggested as he returned his attention to his shoulder plate, slipping it off his arm with a clank.

“Indeed,” Soren agreed.

“Alright then. Goodnight, Soren,” Ike said as he settled into bed.

“Goodnight,” Soren replied, blowing out the candle before he, too, settled down in bed. Ike reached an arm over his waist and held him close and Soren revelled in the security while it lasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write this chapter to be sort of a reflection of Ike and Soren's A support. Hope it came out well enough! 
> 
> In this fic, one of the things I hope to show is the imperfection of Ike within this relationship structure, as there is a tendency to portray Ike in fandom as capable of always saying the right thing. Ike's tendency to be rather blunt doesn't always have an optimal effect (like when he criticises Soren for his lack of tact before apologising later upon reflection) but he has good intentions.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly explanation after explanation to set up the several conflicts that will become more prominent later on, as well as erase a couple of plot holes. As such, I feel like the pacing is a little weird but I wanted to try to cram it all into one chapter. 
> 
> Also, this is perhaps the longest single chapter I have ever written. Yay to me, I guess ;p

The Ambassador arrived around noon the next day and, after waving their farewells to the innkeeper, the group started to make the arduous trip to Daein. The trip was to take approximately three-weeks from their current location on foot but the Ambassador stated that a carriage would pick them up at some point along the way.

“So, you’re a Daein ambassador?” Ike asked levelly a little while after they had set off.

“Ah. So the Prince has told you then?" Soren frowned at the title but said nothing.

“Yes, Soren mentioned his heritage to me,” Ike replied, also seeming unused to the term. “What I’m wondering, though, is how this all came out in the first place? This news was sprung a bit suddenly.”

“I'm afraid I haven't been privy to that fact. It’s possible that Lady Almedha or perhaps her brother mentioned it and the news spread from there. I do know, though, that this was never meant to be made public knowledge." 

“How come?” Ike asked, shifting the strap of the bag on his shoulder. 

“There are multiple reasons. Since it was decided that Lady Micaiah was to be made Queen Daein, the fact was kept under wraps to avoid a dispute at first. Much like how Queen Elincia’s existence was kept secret from the public to avoid disputes with Lord Renning. There is also the fact that confirmation of Prince Soren’s identity couldn’t be found for some time. I also believed that Lady Almedha wanted to keep the truth away from him.”

“Why?" Ike wrinkled his nose. “Seems a bit cold, knowing you're the parent of a child and then keeping it hidden. Like it's something to be ashamed of."

“On the contrary, Lord Ike, I believe she didn’t want this known because she wanted to protect him.”

“Protect me?” Soren snorted, derisive. The pair turned to look at him. “How has anything that woman's done protected me? I didn’t even know that she was alive until a few days ago."

Ike eyes narrowed at the corners and Soren knew he was thinking the same thing. 

The Ambassador straightened, crossing his arms behind his back. “I feel this is a conversation you should hold with Lady Almedha, Prince, but I maintain that my lady didn’t hold the truth from you in spite. My lady is rather… hightstung... at times and rebellious in nature, but she is not a woman of poor quality. I swear this to you.”

Soren hummed in response and the conversation waned.

Soren found the idea that Almedha was his birth mother rather a hard thing to accept. Maybe it was due to his ignorance but Soren hadn’t felt any form of connection to the woman during their single meeting. Regardless of why, Soren grew up away from the woman and his life had been hard for a long time, until he had met Ike. Although Soren was somewhat bitter at the chain of events that unfolded after his birth, he mostly felt indifference towards the dowager Queen.

She was nothing more than a stranger to him. If they didn’t look so alike, Soren doubted he would have even believed such tales of their relation.

Despite this, the mage couldn’t help the anxiety that blossomed inside at the thought of their imminent reunion. He didn’t know how he wanted their reunion to play out, either. Part of Soren wanted to blame the injustices he had experienced on the woman, another part wanted to meet a woman who was so despicable that he could only feel gratitude for having been abandoned by her. However, the quieter side of Soren’s consciousness craved to finally understand. To finally understand why he had been placed into the care of a woman who would be rid of him at her earliest convenience. To feel validated by the woman who, by all accounts, should have loved him more than any other.

Ike reached out a hand and nudged Soren's wrist, snapping him out of his reflections. Ike, much like he himself, was not much when it came to consoling words. He didn't always say the right thing to ease his worries and his blunt way of speaking could easily come across in the opposite way to what was intended; even to Soren, who knew Ike better than any other. Still, Ike tried to do right by him even if he didn't always know how to chase his fears away.

Soren smiled weakly at Ike, drawing from him further resolve. 

Even if everything went terribly at the capital, at least Ike would continue to be at his side.

 

~~X~~

 

The carriage met them on the border between Daein and Begnion after a little over a week of travel. The journey had felt long, lacking the usual brightness of their other trips around Tellius. Instead, a foreboding aura hung in the air as if to warn them of the problems they were about to face.

Much to Soren’s surprise and discomfort, the carriage driver _bowed_ when he witnessed their approach. “Your highness,” he greeted; his accent clearly that of a Daein nobleman. The quality of his carriage also betrayed his social class. It was far more ornate than the carriages the army had employed during the wars. “What a delight to make your acquaintance, my prince. To think that the world’s most renowned tactician would be of Daein lineage!”

Soren nodded back, not knowing what exactly to say in response. He had been constantly lost for words recently, since this whole thing had arisen.

“And the radiant hero!” The driver bowed again in Ike’s direction. “I never thought I would receive such honours to take not only a hero of your calibre, Lord Ike, but also the lost prince, to the capital. Praise be to the Goddess Yune!”

“Uh… you’re welcome?” Ike tried.

Undeterred by the reaction, the man turned to the Ambassador. “Your excellency, as you can see, we are prepared to depart when you are. The journey should take little more than two days from here, considering stops to rest the horses. Please let us know when you are ready.”

The Ambassador nodded as he approached the carriage. Opening the door, Soren could tell immediately that whoever had designed the thing was a talented craftsman who had spared no expense. Red velvet seats obviously new, a wooden floor that showed no mark of dust or dirt… There was even leather (not the cheaply made stuff that made up their attire but leather that cost more to fashion than anything he had ever owned combined) which clung to the doors to fit the style. Soren glanced at the woodwork and counted the different kinds of wood. _Oak, acacia, painted cedar…_ wood which had definitely been sent from lands other than just Daein,

He admired the skill that went into making the carriage but despised the excess of it all. ‘ _The frivolity of nobles…_ ’ Soren found himself thinking with a glare. _‘Spending money on something like this while the some of their species struggle to even secure a meal.’_

Would he have turned out so ignorant to the way the world operated were he raised in the courts? Soren had been called cold by many people but his coldness was a result of what he had suffered. Soren wondered if he would still be uncaring to those other than the ones who he had personal investment in, were he raised into royalty. 

Soren stepped into the carriage before the driver could try to offer him a hand up and Ike quickly followed. Sitting together, with the Ambassador opposite, the Ambassador signalled the driver to depart. The carriage moved with a slight jolt before the trotting of the horses eased the movement of the carriage into a gentle rhythm.

“Sir Soren,” the Ambassador began after a few moments where the only sound was hooves on stone. “I feel it is about time we discussed what you should be expecting once we arrive at the capital.”

“Very well,” Soren agreed. “We have heard very little about Daein since we set off from our headquarters. Any news we have heard has been minor gossip.”

“That’s not surprising. Your lineage is quickly becoming known among the Daein public but news takes time to travel. I suspect it would take several more days before it would be commonly known among, say, Begnion’s citizenry."

“Who does exactly know about Soren?” Ike asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

“The nobility of every nation was notified of this revelation when we were trying to track you both down. Your brief stop to see the Apostle Sanaki was what eventually notified us that you were in Begnion and we simply followed the trail from there. Your old mercenary company are also aware, as that was one of the first places where we tried to find you. In terms of public knowledge… it is hot news in Daein right now and rumours are starting to spread on the Crimean border. Otherwise, it is not too widely known right now. However, I doubt this will last. The news that one of the greatest tacticians of our age is the son of King Ashnard is unlikely to be silenced anytime soon.” 

There was a pause. 

“But, digressing back to what I was initially going to say, I feel you need to be aware of some of the… conflicts… within the Daein court.”

“Conflicts?” Ike brows raised in alarm. “You mean the nobility are fighting each other?”

“Not literally, but yes, the nobles are in a disagreement right now.”

Soren let out a sigh. _What a surprise._ The idea that he would have to talk to such annoying beings was perhaps what he dreaded most about arriving in Daein, but he didn’t voice this. It would be unwise to talk negatively of nobles to an _ambassador,_ no matter how much he wanted to voice his distaste.

Ike didn’t seem to surprised either and he gradually settled back into his seat. “Aren’t they always in disagreement?”

Soren had to hold back a grin at their thoughts synchronisation, even if he still felt voicing such thoughts unwise.

The Ambassador Mavus let out an unsure chuckle, like he wasn’t sure whether or not to be offended. “Yes, I suppose they are but I meant they are in a disagreement over who should wear the crown. See, Soren, by blood, should become the next ruler of Daein. He is the only remaining heir to the Daein royal line. However, Lady Micaiah is loved much by the people and her passion for Daein is clear for all to see. In terms of the Daein population, the overruling opinion is that she should become Queen.”

Soren narrowed his eyes slightly. “I have already said that I don’t want the crown and would abdicate it. If the general opinion is that Micaiah should rule, what is the point in bringing me here?"

The Ambassador offered a small smile as if that could dissipate Soren’s annoyance. “That isn’t necessarily true. Although Daein, overall, would rather Lady Micaiah on the throne; in terms of foreign support you are a much stronger candidate. You served as second-in-command to the general who freed Crimea from occupation. In addition, your role in the last war where you served as key tactician in both the Apostle’s army and the Laguz alliance has earned you much favour in the eyes of foreign nobility. Some of the rulers, namely the newly crowned King Skrimir and Queen Elincia, have specifically voiced their preference for you. Although Lady Micaiah ultimately was of aid in the war, that incident where she tried to murder the Apostle burns in many minds still, much to her regret.”

“There is also the fact,” the Ambassador continued, “that although the general opinion of Daein leans towards Lady Micaiah, there are some who would rather those with royal blood to take the throne. Traditionalists, mostly, but there are also those who feel Micaiah would be too light-handed in her rule in order to avoid upsetting her people. For those who see this danger, you seem to be a much stronger potential ruler.”

“And so,” Soren concluded, “I cannot be discounted.”

“Correct.”

“Seems like a mess to me,” Ike muttered, obviously dissatisfied. “If Soren doesn’t want to rule then he shouldn’t be forced into the position.”

“And he won’t be,” the Ambassador assures him. “If Soren wants to abdicate his right to rule then he can. There is nothing stopping him and there is little anyone can do about it should he refuse. However, until Soren announces his stance then the debates will continue and it will take even longer for Lady Micaiah to take the crown. Also, until Soren voices the fact he doesn’t want to rule, there will be a massive amount of gold on his head. As war veterans, you should know well the value of royal prisoners. Many people would try to hunt him down and auction him for ransom, which would place you both at risk.”

Ike sighed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Fine,” he answers with resignation. “As long as Soren has a say in what occurs, I’m fine with it this plan.”

“Many thanks for your compliance, Lord Ike. What do you think, Soren?” the ambassador asked, raising a brow. Soren noted that he seemed to have given up on attaching ‘Prince’ to his name, like he felt as uncomfortable saying it as he did hearing it.

“I’m not happy about this situation, at all,” Soren stated bluntly. “I am aware that these are the required steps to renounce any claim I have on the throne but this whole process feels tedious, especially since I know already that I won’t rule Daein. However, I will do what I must to see this situation through.”

“And for that, you also have my thanks. I hope the process goes on without delay for you.”

“As do I,” Soren replied with a sigh.

 

~~X~~

 

Daein keep had always seemed a foreboding place to him. It wasn’t pretty like Crimea capital with its blank stone and pointed towers; built on a mountain to increase its strategic edge but the mountain served the additional purpose of making it seem more imposing. In the evening light, the stone burned orange, the colour reflecting off the walls and causing the towers to cast long shadows. The snow which always accompanied the keep made approach even more difficult for would-be invaders. Objectively, it was a masterpiece of architecture and an extremely well built fortress besides but it was one Soren didn’t appreciate. Perhaps it was the memories that accompanied the place. 

“Ambassador Mavus?” One of the guards on duty stopped his rounds as they approached, seeming not to recognise them. Usually, this would hardly be surprising. Their names and achievements were well known, not their appearances. However, considering how this was Daein keep, the lack of recognition seemed unusual. Even if they didn’t know what Soren looked like, they surely should deduct who he was given his escort being an ambassador.

The Ambassador nodded briefly to the guard before breezing past him, heading for the core of the keep as he escorted them up several stairways.

“Nobody seems to know who we are,” Soren mused aloud after the Ambassador nodded to yet another guard who seemed unaware of their purpose.

The Ambassador didn’t look back but replied anyway. Soren was beginning to think the man adored hearing the sound of his own voice as he gave yet another detailed explanation. “It was decided that your discovery should be kept unannounced for your safety. I alone was sent to retrieve you in order to avoid suspicion; hence why there was also little security guarding the carriage. A measure that seemed to function rather well, given the lack of issues we faced travelling here.”

“That’s quite a gamble to make,” Ike commented. He walked alongside Soren, lagging slightly behind the man. “If it _was_ discovered, we would have been pretty defenceless.”

“Lord Ike, you should know that no plan is without flaw. Yes, there was a risk, but there would have been a worse risk if we had increased Soren’s guard. That would have made an attack a much higher possibility. Better to avoid a fight than to be prepared to combat one.”

Ike hummed a response, following the man through various rooms. Some he recognised from his few visits to the keep; others he did not. The keep was massive and it would take hours to explore it all. “Where exactly are we headed?” Ike asked.

“The throne room, Lord Ike. Lady Micaiah will want to speak to you both.”

 _‘Micaiah probably wants to observe my stance on all this’_ Soren mused, doubting a friendly greeting was her true agenda. After all, he was potentially standing in the way between her and the Daein crown.

From his few conversations with Micaiah, he had determined that she also wasn’t given to excess, much like himself. Soren doubted that she would want to keep the crown for personal reasons. It would be a logical guess that Micaiah simply wanted to see if he would lead the country well, were he to take her role.

Daein’s wellbeing always mattered more than anything to Micaiah.

Well, with one exception.

They saw Sothe in a room on the same hallway as the hallway doors. Soren suspected it was his base of operations from the documents and maps covering every surface available. Although she wasn’t officially crowned, Micaiah had taken on many of the roles appointed to a ruler and Sothe (as her fiancé) would naturally become king. This was likely where he organised reconstruction efforts still remaining from the war.

The man had dark shadows under his eyes as he talked with someone in a chair opposite his desk, not noticing them at first. Soren deduced from the fact the door had been left open that whatever they were talking about wasn’t of vital importance. Or Sothe just wasn’t careful.

“-if I knew that then we would have obviously told him-- of course not! Micaiah would never be so-- yes, it may look that way but Micaiah’s only interest is Daein’s recovery, not who wears the crown…”

As they approached, the person sat on the chair became clearer. The person, a beorc woman with brunette hair cut long, had her back turned to the door so it was impossible to see her face but as they neared, the tone of her voice gave her identity away.

A glance at Ike betrayed both his awkwardness and his relief to hear Mist’s voice again.

“Ike?” Sothe said, finally noticing them with raised brows. He glanced over to Soren and his expression turned grim.

“Ike?” Mist echoed, confused. Turning to follow his line of sight, her face lit up upon spotting the pair. “Ike!” She cried enthusiastically, leaping out of her chair. “And Soren too! Oh, I have missed you both!”

Running up to them she all but leapt into Ike’s arms and he barely managed to keep himself upright. “Hayy, Mist,” Ike greeted, somewhat less enthusiastically. He never was given to wild fits of enthusiasm at the best of times but the lingering guilt he felt at having left Mist, seemingly for good, made the reunion less sweet for him. Not that Mist seemed to mind as she released her brother.

“Soren! Or dare I say, Prince Soren!” She regarded the mage with a smile, deciding against hugging him too when he stared at her with distaste. Her excitement was beginning to dissipate as she forced herself to speak in a calmer tone. “I hope my brother hasn’t been too much trouble for you? We have really missed you both back at the fort.”

“Mist, what are you doing here?” Ike asked, his expression sombre, cutting through the excitement of the reunion. “How did you know this is where we were headed?”

Mist placed a hand on her hip. She had matured through the years; both in body and mind. Her curves had become more refined and her personality had strengthened. Disappointed with her brother’s serious behaviour, she pursed her lips. “We had a couple of men show up at the fort looking for Soren. Obviously, we didn’t go spouting of where you had gone but then they start telling us that he was royalty! I knew once you were found you would wind up coming to Daein so we all thought we would take a trip to see you both again.”

“‘We all thought?’” Soren selected. “The other mercenaries are here too?”

“Yeah. Even Shinon, believe it or not. Mia has gone on another journey, though, so she is not with us but the rest of the gang is here! We know this is probably the last time we will get to see you both before you journey away and since you slipped off last time without so much as a goodbye…” a scowl in Ike’s direction. “We couldn’t turn down this opportunity.”

Mist talked on for a bit before Sothe, who had been silent during the exchange, frowned as he noticed the waning light. “I think it will be a little late to meet with Micaiah now,” He admitted. “Mist. Would it be okay if you escort them to their room? We are a little understaffed at the moment and the room we were going to assign them is just down the hall to your own.”

Mist nodded. “Sure, Sothe!" She turned to face the pair and placed her hands on her hips."I should imagine you both are pretty tired after riding in a carriage all day? C’mon, you have to tell me what you both have been up to.”

And, as if they had never left, Mist dragged them away from the room and down the halls, leaving the Ambassador behind with Sothe. Ike's sister always was good at sweeping people along with her wavelength. 


	4. Chapter 4

“So, what have you two been up to?” Mist asked as she navigated the halls, stopping every now and again to try and recall the directions. Soren had a lingering concern she was going to get them lost. If she did, it certainly wouldn’t surprise him. Mist’s sense of direction had always been questionable at best and the keep wasn’t exactly easy to navigate for the average person.

“I think you know what we have been up to, Mist,” Ike said. “We didn’t even get outside Tellian borders before we were dragged back here.”

“Don’t be such a wet blanket! Last I heard, you were both planning to go on a book tour or something before the big trip started.” Mist paused as she stared down a hallway in thought before continuing passed. "I’m surprised you didn’t die from boredom, Ike. You hate reading!”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Ike admitted. “Sure I am not good with books but the tales Soren learned from them were interesting, at least. Taking a trip around the known world was also a nice way to say goodbye.”

Mist scrunched up her face in mock hurt at his words. “So you will give the lands of Tellius a proper farewell but not your own sister? I’m hurt!”

“Mist, I-” Ike began, his tone apologetic. Although the Greil Mercenaries had been informed of their imminent departure, the exact date was never made known to them. Ike insisted that the last memories the mercenaries held of them both were happy ones and Soren (not wanting to go through a long, drawn-out farewell) had agreed. They had disappeared late one night; leaving a note which outlined their intent as well as taking with them the Ragnell sword to return to Begnion.

Studying her brother’s face, Mist offered a smile. “Oh, don’t worry about it, Ike. I’m only teasing you!”

Ike remained sombre. 

Turning into another hallway, Mist stopped in front of a wooden door. “Okay, I think this is where we are staying. In here is the common room, then. The other mercenaries should be in here and your room is over there,” She pointed to a door at the opposite end of the hall. “You should say hello! Everyone has missed you two and you will probably have to see them again at some point.”

Soren looked at Ike, voicing no comment. It was Ike who had felt guilt for having left the mercenaries, not Soren. While the mage had surprised himself for having felt a sort of bitterness at saying goodbye to them he had moved on quickly, while Ike had taken much longer.

Ultimately, whether or not they faced the group now or later was Ike’s decision.

“…Alright,” Ike said finally, earning a grin from Mist. Soren nodded in agreement.

“Come on then!” Mist exclaimed as she pushed the doors open.

The common room was decently sized, with large flowing curtains and cushioned chairs. Numerous oak tables had been placed besides some of these tables and upon these were various items like cups and table pieces. It was clear that whoever had been settled in here had wasted no time in making themselves comfortable. As far as Soren could see there were no maids, but as far as they were from the throne room he suspected they weren’t important enough for constant service. 

They noticed Titania first upon their entry. The paladin regarded the door with disinterest as they entered, not seeming to notice them. Soren supposed the security of the keep had diminished her need to be on high alert. “Ah Mist? How did it—“

“Titania!” Mist snapped her out of her haze. “Ike and Soren are here!”

Finally turning to face the door, a smile broke out on the knight’s face as she finally saw the other two entrants. “Ah, Ike! Soren! Good to see you both!”

“Hello, Titania,” Ike regarded her with a smile. “Good to see you again.”

Titania glanced at Soren, not seeming surprised by his lack of greeting. Soren obliged her with a nod of his head. Although the two weren’t exactly friends, they had worked well together as fellow advisors to Ike. As such, although Soren rarely agreed with Titania, he did have to respect both her battle prowess and the aid she had offered during the war.

Titania’s glance, though, lingered on him longer than he would have liked. He noticed the slight quiver of her lips, as if she were debating whether or not to say something. oren hoped that she would keep whatever comment she was brewing within her mind, having decided that he thoroughly disliked his new royal status.

“Ah, the radiant hero has returned just when people stopped complaining you were gone,” Shinon grumbled, making his presence known and snapping Titania out of her mental debate. “And I thought that the last time we talked would be the last. I should have known we would see you again." 

“Nice to see you again too, Shinon,” Ike replied bluntly.

“And Soren,” Shinon regarded the mage with displeasure. “I wish I was surprised that you were the Mad King’s son. Maybe I should rid the world of you now? We wouldn’t want another repeat of that man, would we?”

Titania shot Shinon a level glare. “Shinon!” She warned him, not looking away when he glared back. Ike expression had darkened at Shinon’s words but he didn’t seem sure whether or not to jump to Soren’s defence. If he did, he could potentially make the matter worse by picking a side. 

Soren didn’t disagree with Ike’s silence as he found himself glaring at Shinon too. The archer was, without a doubt, Soren’s least favourite member of the mercenaries. His rude demeanour, his drinking problem, his lack of respect, his abandonment of the mercenaries and his subsequent dislike of Ike… Soren had considered the many advantages of either firing or killing Shinon over the years. Yet, his skill with a bow was unparalleled. If it wasn’t for this simple fact, Soren would have no doubt suggested his termination years ago.

“Amusing that you are still as disrespectful and juvenile as before,” Soren shot back, earning him a glare from the sniper. “Don’t you have anything better to do but sit back and grouse?”

“Say that again I dare-”

“Alright!” Ike intervened; putting a hand on Soren’s shoulder and pushing him back lightly to diffuse the situation. “That’s enough. Can’t you try to get along for five minutes, please?"

Shinon snorted at his words. “You aren’t the Commander anymore, boy. You don’t get to boss me around.”

Soren scrunched up his face, already irritated with the man. Forcing the emotion down, he spoke stiffly. “If you care so little for both of our presences then you being here is pretty idiotic. Mist mentioned that you were aware we were coming.”

Shinon glare turned fiercer at the ‘idiotic’ comment but he seemed to have lost interest in the conversation. “I don’t need to explain myself to you, whelp. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go try and find a drink. Or would that offend your highness?”

Ike stiffened at the title. After Soren voiced no comment Shinon breezed past them and headed for the door, leaving them alone with Titania. Upon looking around, it seemed that she was the only one present. Soren guessed the other mercenaries had likely retired for the night.

There was a beat of silence where nobody seemed sure what to say. 

Then Mist stepped forward and grinned at them again. “So, have you learned on your journey so far? I’m going to need these details." 

~~X~~ 

They spent over an hour talking about what they had discovered before retiring to bed. Or, rather, Ike talked and Soren occasionally chipped in. It always pleased Soren to watch Ike when he discussed the prospect of discovering new lands. The passion the man felt was almost contagious and Soren caught himself smiling every now and again as he spoke. Titania and Mist also shared some of their own news, like how Boyd was doing very well as the new Commander and that he and Mist were still very happy together. Ike and Soren had managed to catch the wedding before they departed. Ike had insisted on being there on that day and he had been given the honour of walking his sister down the aisle.

The two women talked about how Mia had recently left on another trip, how Gatrie still flirted with every girl he saw and how Rolf was getting even better with his bow. They even claimed Shinon was  beginning to cut back on his drinking (not that his earlier behaviour gave that impression). No massive news; simply slight changes that had occurred within the group since their departure. Still, it was clear Ike felt much relief in knowing that very little had changed in their little family without him and Soren there to maintain it.

As they all stood up to retire Titania gave Soren a look similar to the one she had given earlier, her lips set in a line. “Soren, could I have a word in private with you for a moment?” She asked.

In truth Soren didn’t want to oblige her but he did anyways because he had no real reason to refuse her request. Waiting as Mist and Ike left the room (Ike giving him a lingering glance as he left) Soren gave the knight his attention. “What is it, Titania?”

The knight seemed unsure (an unusual thing to witness from her) with her face scrunched up in contemplation. Silence lapsed between them before her expression gradually softened. “How… are you holding up with all this?” She said finally with some difficulty.

“How am I holding up? What do you mean?”

“As in, how are you finding all this news regarding your… parentage? It isn’t bothering you at all?”

“…Of course it bothers me, Titania… if the fact that I’m of royal blood wasn’t insult enough…“ Soren paused briefly, concerned he was revealing too much. Although he was learning to trust, he needed more time yet before he revealed his emotions to people other than Ike. Instead he said, “It bothers me but I would rather get this business over with than contemplate the matter overmuch.”

Titania considers his words for a moment before she slowly reached out to place a hand on his shoulder in an attempt at consolation. Soren regarded the gesture with displeasure but didn’t move away nor did he voice an objection. Titania had tried countless times over the years to adopt the role of the mother in his eyes, to little avail. He could understand her pure intentions despite how he wished she would remain a co-worker instead of trying to fill that familial space absent from his life.

“I can imagine this is all a lot to process,” Titania speaks carefully. “How has Ike taken the news?”

“… He says he is fine with it.”

“You don’t sound sure if you believe that?”

“He… doesn’t seem to like it when people refer to me by a title. _I_ don’t like it when people refer to me by a title. I know he isn’t happy that I am dragging him back into the courts after he has just freed himself from them. He seems okay with it all but I can’t be sure he isn’t lying for my benefit.”

“I see.”

“Is that all?” Soren raised a brow. “You just want to know my opinion on this mess?”

Titania sighed, releasing Soren’s shoulder. “No, that's not all. I wanted to let you know that we are all here for you."

“Oh? That’s oddly sentimental from you.”

“I know this situation is… unexpected and you have a tendency to keep whatever bothers you to yourself. Ike isn’t too different in that regard. Although I doubt you’ll take me up on this, I want to let you know that you have friends who will support you when things get difficult. I doubt the next few weeks will be easy on both you and Ike.”

Soren studies Titania’s body language as she speaks, not sure if she was being sincere or if she was trying to be courteous. He knew he wouldn’t turn to her with any major internal problems regardless but the mage felt it was important to know her intentions.

Not knowing what her intentions were or what else to say Soren remained silent. Giving him a small smile, Titania voiced a “good night,” as she left him to muse 

 ~~X~~

It was going to rain.

Almedha watched as the first few droplets struck the window, following the water’s trail down its surface from the comfort of her bed. Her quarters were not as ornate as her room back in Goldoa, nor as extravagant as the king’s quarters which she had shared as Ashnard’s mistress. In fact, it was a guest’s quarters which she had decorated to compliment her tastes. Deep purples and blues gave the room a sense of regality which she had clung to her whole life, yet abandoned at every turn.

Even the colours she chose to decorate with reflected her rebellious nature.

Almedha removed her veil from her head without calling the maid. It wasn’t a difficult thing to do, but she often requested help with it, as if to make herself feel more important than she currently was. Ever since they had discovered the identity of her lost son she had felt like little more than a nuisance to the castle staff. This in itself didn’t bother her; if anything, it made her feel somewhat smug when she waved what little status she had over their heads.

But she disliked how they had disregarded her every effort to suppress the truth on her child’s identity, like she didn’t at least have a say in what path her son took.

The dowager queen continued to study the rain as it fell against the windows. The sun had vanished now and the moon had risen in its place, filling her room with its light. She had yet to light her candles. The only thing she could see was her window.

Although they never outright said it, Almedha knew what many people thought of her need to keep the secret suppressed. They likely felt it was a desperate attempt to either reinstate Pelleas as king (whom she loved, and still did love like he was her own child) or a futile attempt to hide away from the mistakes she had made by her son.

Yet, it was none of these things. She had seen for herself the love her child had for his commander and she couldn’t bear to tear them apart. Even though she had wanted nothing more than to attempt to mend the hurt her son had been dealt, she knew that the best place for that to happen was at that Commander’s side, not her own.

In the end, though, her efforts didn’t matter. The truth had been spilled. Her son was dragged into the royal life style she very much doubted he wanted.

Almedha knew she would have to face him soon enough as well as her numerous failures as his parent…. Her inability to keep him at her side, her failure to find him afterward but, most of all, the fact she had birthed a Branded child into the world where they weren’t accepted only to leave him to face it alone. 

The dowager queen felt tears prick her eyes as she continued to watch the rain, drowning in her regrets and sorrows. 

~~X~~

Ike watched as the mage undid the ties of his hair, allowing it to fall against his back like a blanket. He always found the process relaxing to witness. Soren always worked slowly as he pulled the ties free one at a time to set them aside carefully on the bedside table.

In the first few months of their relationship, Ike would often fall asleep watching the mage’s actions and listening to the sound of Soren brushing his fingers through his hair. Soren’s hair was neither soft nor course; achieving an in between which was pleasant enough to touch yet stiff enough to create a light sound as he worked the brush through the strands.

It was difficult to believe that the man who shared his bed would now be shared with the rest of Daein. As time went on, the implications of Soren’s birthright were beginning to set in. He knew there was nothing that could be done about it for now and Soren had assured him that he didn’t want to rule, yet, as he watched the mage brush his hair, Ike couldn’t help but feel bitter at how things have turned out.

“Ike? Are you okay?” Soren asked, pausing in working the brush through a knot.

Unaware that his face had stiffened into a frown, Ike offered a weak smile. “I’m fine, Soren. Ready for bed?”

Soren didn't seem to believe him but he hummed in response as he finally freed the knot, working the brush all around his hair to ensure it was the last. Setting the brush down, Soren joined Ike in the bed and the latter pulled the blanket over them both.

“Night, Ike,” Soren murmured as he settled.

“Night, Soren.”

It took a while but Soren eventually fell asleep, signalled by his even breathing. Ike found himself watching him as he slept, unable to do the same. He eyed the blemishes in his skin, his pale complexion, his branded mark. Even asleep Soren seemed agitated, his forehead creased as he dreamed. Ike, feeling unusually soft, took up his hand lightly in order to avoid waking him. Soren shifted but did not wake.

Ike knew it was selfish but he wanted things to return to the way they were mere days before. He wanted it to just be them to and the world beyond the horizon. Ike knew that Soren was going to be dragged down by responsibility for a while now despite how they both may dislike it. It seemed unfair. They had done more than enough to warrant their freedom.

Ike sighed to himself, studying Soren still as he tried to salvage comfort from his presence. Grazing his thumb across Soren’s knuckles, he didn’t release his hand until he, too, joined him in the land of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter should be the final 'setting-up' chapter before things start getting interesting. I hope I didn't botch any of the characters in this one. Ike is proving quite tricky to get right (since his personality changes rather dramatically between the two games) especially in regards to when he confronts people and when he doesn't. So, I hope he came out okay.


	5. Chapter 5

Light shone on Soren's face.

The mage, ever a light sleeper and an early-bird besides, shifted as the light passed under his eye lids to awaken him. Sitting up almost as soon as he became conscious, Soren eyed Ike beside him and smiled slightly. Ike had managed to kick the silken sheet to the foot of the bed in his sleep, leaving him with only his underclothes to combat the chill.

Rubbing a hand up his own arm, Soren retrieved Ike's cape from a nearby chair and placed it over him before getting out of bed to dress.

The room was extravagant and clean; much like the room he had been assigned when they had stayed in Sienne during the Mad King's war. Thick green drapes crowned the window but hadn't been pulled across it to cover the light. The room was spacious and the stone floor was covered in carpets of deep reds and greens as such that Soren could make it to the door without having to touch the stone. The silken sheets and soft mattress were nothing like the beds in rundown inns or his bed back at Greil's retreat which were so bare that it was impossible not to wake up stiff. Still, the room was too nice for his taste.

Soren had grown to find more comfort in discomfort after his many years battling starvation on the streets.

Pulling his robe over his underclothes, Soren brushed his fingers through his hair to pick out the knots before working to tie his hair back. Ike slept through his morning routine as he always did. Ike was also an early riser but one would be hard pressed to wake up before the mage. After working to fit his feet into leather boots, Soren ventured out into the hall.

The tactician had learnt the majority of Daein keep's layout during his last stay here. As such, he knew how to navigate to the library. Passing through barren hallways with only a few guards on duty (who regarded him with a bow – he supposed they had been informed who he was?) he manoeuvred his way through the keep as if he lived there.

When he reached the familiar doors of the library, he passed through the doors with but a nod to the guards on duty. He noted they didn't say much to him. Not that he particularly wanted to talk to them anyway.

The library of Daein keep was extensive but after his visits to the libraries of Melior and Sienne it paled in comparison. Soren had spent much of his free time in libraries during the wars; gathering information on foes and brushing up on foreign politics. His compulsion to gain knowledge was what had ultimately led to him finding out about him being Branded too…

And it was this need for information which brought him back to the library yet again.

Shoving the memory aside, Soren regarded the room. The bookcases were spread out in aisles, with categories being signalled by a sign at their sides.

_Beorc history… Holy teachings… Court history..._

None of the categories seemed right.

Deciding he was going to need to be less specific, Soren ventured into the bookcase titled ' _Court History.'_  Staring at the spines of the books with displeasure, he considered leaving the section when a voice spoke up.

"So, you are an early riser too?"

Soren turned, recognising them immediately. It was hard not to recognise the silver hair, despite how the person in question now donned robes more grand than anything they had ever wore in the wars. Still, Soren noted that they wore less finery than one would expect from someone in her position.

The mage regarded them with a glare. "Hello, Micaiah."

The Maiden of Dawn noted his displeasure and frowned, but didn't comment. Her sparse interactions with the mage had made his opinions of her clear. She supposed she hadn't done much to gain favour from him. She had attacked the man whom he had devoted his life to on several occasions and had only made things difficult for him as a strategist. Micaiah felt his coldness still, as sharp as it had been when they had fought on the Rivain, yet the force which had only begun to melt the glacier then was now beginning to make itself a force to be reckoned.

Micaiah smiled despite herself. It was good to see he was making progress.

"You seem like you are looking for something," Micaiah said, doubting he would appreciate a return greeting. "I spend much of my time in this library. Perhaps I could help you?"

"No. That isn't necessary."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," Soren said, wanting her to leave.

"You are annoyed," Micaiah noted.

"You are bothering me, Maiden. I don't know why you are insistent on keeping my company but it isn't appreciated. We barely talked during the war and none of the times we did talk were ever under positive circumstances. Others may have grown fond of you, Micaiah, but I am not one of them so I don't know what you are trying to gain here by playing nice."

Others may have felt offended by his remarks but Micaiah was not one of them. It was hard to take anything hurtful the man said to heart when she felt all the hurt still buried within. Micaiah knew she was being intrusive but, in such peaceful times, it was hard to avoid looking into people's emotions.

Feeling her vision blur, she watched as his thoughts appeared in her mind. Trying to dismiss the darker ones, the ones which revealed too much, she pushed his thoughts aside until his current goal made itself clear.

"You are looking into how to abdicate your heritage?" She found herself asking before she could think about it. Soren regarded her with confusion for a moment before his expression darkened.

"You read my thoughts?"

"I did but I read nothing more than that."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Soren tone was harsh.

"It's not something I can help."

"Convenient."

Knowing she had offended him, Micaiah paused a moment, not knowing what to say, before she moved the conversation back onto topic. "You wish to abdicate the Daein throne?" She asked tentatively.

"Of course," Soren replied, eyes returning to the bookcase. "I have no interest in court life. Nor do I have an interest in Daein. So don't worry, Micaiah, you won't have to compete for the crown with me." He seemed bitter and she couldn't detect if it was directed at her or at the situation.

Micaiah watched as he scanned the bookshelves; eyes skimming past tomes and creasing in the corners. He reminded her much of Sothe. They both could act so dismissive to those they disliked. "I'm surprised," she said.

"At?" Soren asked. He wasn't even trying not to sound aggravated.

"That you would give up a life of comfort so easily. As I understand it, your life hasn't been kind."

"Snooping into my thoughts again?"

"No. Your emotions reveal that much."

"Well then, maybe you should mind your own business, Maiden," Soren's voice dripped with scorn. "You don't see me asking you personal questions."

Micaiah bit her lip. This wasn't going how she planned when she approached him. She had only wished to help. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I wasn't trying to be intrusive."

Turning to face her again, Micaiah stared at Soren as he hissed, "Then leave me be," before he walked away from her into another section of the library.

Sighing to herself, Micaiah let the mage be. It always seemed that any attempts she made to help people always made matters worse. With a frown she navigated the library and picked up a tome on Daein politics before leaving it resting conveniently on a table as she left. She hoped he wouldn't take the gesture the wrong way.

 

~~X~~

Soren didn't like nobles at the best of times. As with anything to do with their lifestyle, Soren could never stop thinking of how excessive everything they did was. They ate enough food to feed a family of four, they had tailored clothes which they only wore once made from materials which he would never have access to as a simple mercenary and they spent their large income on pointless things like poetry readings and valiant steeds descended from bloodlines which were lost on most.

Soren was not a humanitarian by any means. He could care less what happened to others. Still, to watch nobles whose intent should have been the people's betterment spend tax money on their personal comfort left a bitter taste in his mouth; even though he had expected this behaviour from them. It was disappointing to watch them prove him right.

"Lord Soren," a man who Soren had come to learn went by the name of Duke Valiora hid his motivations well. If Soren were more naïve, he may have failed to see through his ploy.

The duke was the ruler of a small section of land in the mountains (he had learned his name in one of the books in his library venture). It was obvious he would try to get in favour with the new potential ruler in order to try for an expansion of influence. He had even managed to hide his distain for his church accent and cheap clothes.

"If there's anything you seek to know about Daein politics, please know you can come to me. I will do anything within my power to assist you." The man's voice didn't sound honeyed. He was a good actor. ' _He must have been doing this for some time,'_ Soren mused.

Resisting the urge to point this out, Soren nodded. "Your… helpfulness… has been noted. I will make sure to remember your words should I be in need." It took every ounce of self-control he had to keep his annoyance suppressed.

"Why, it would be an honour to assist the lost Daein heir," Duke Valiora continued, dragging the conversation along. "Anything for the lost son of the great Ashnard."

"You have my thanks," Soren said, sounding more sarcastic then he would have liked.

"No thanks are necessary, my Prince." The duke wasn't deterred.

"If that is all, I need to make my way back to my quarters."

"Oh, I see. Farewell, then, Prince."

"Farewell."

Passing the man without a second glance, Soren navigated the hallways back to his room. It was nearing mid-morning now; about 10am judging from the sun's position in the sky and the increased activity in the halls. More than one person had stopped to greet him. He guessed his identity had been revealed, then, if the guards' activity earlier in the morning hadn't cemented this as fact.

Soren regretted that visiting nobles had been informed too, though. Besides Duke Veliora, two other nobles had stopped and forced him into menial conversations about how much 'assistance' they would offer him in troubled times and how 'grateful' they were that the 'true lost heir' had been discovered. He had resisted the urge to roll his eyes at them outright. After his meeting with that idiotic girl earlier that day, he was not in the mood to play along.

Ike eyed him as he entered their quarters, now fully-dressed and eating breakfast off a tray. The food looked good and the plate was heaped. "A servant came by to get our breakfast order," Ike explained as he chewed on a piece of bread. "I think this is the best part of this place so far."

Picking up a bowl of stew from the tray grudgingly, Soren settled into a chair near the bed. To Soren, eating was just something that he had to do to sustain himself. Eating food was rarely enjoyable but he understood that he needed to eat often in order to work at maximum capacity. As such, he forced himself to eat during meal times. Very rarely did he outright skip meals, but he did have a tendency to take much less than others either because he wanted to get back to his work faster or because he 'wasn't hungry.'

Ike placed a piece of bread in Soren's stew without so much as glancing at him. Soren sighed despite appreciating the gesture.

 

~~X~~

The clothes felt stiff; far from the loose robes he was used to. Fiddling with the arm of cloth, Soren flexed his fingers as he tried to adjust to their feel. Someone had ordered for Soren to be given 'appropriate attire' for navigating the courts. His old clothes were too common and some felt he would not be respected if he had shown up dressed in them.

The clothes they put him into were skin tight on the arms and the sleeves run down to his hands, which they wrapped around like fingerless gloves. Over the tunic they placed a robe which had no sleeves, leaving the tunic sleeves visible. The robe was slim on the torso but expanded out at the legs. It looked much like a dress but slimmer than what was traditional.

The tunic was grey but the robe itself was dark blue, with a slim leather belt at the waist for style. They had been gracious enough to put a holster for his tome at the hip but the robe lacked the small pockets he reserved for herbs and ink. It could have been much more frivolous, something which Soren was grateful for, but he missed the practicality.

Soren wrinkled his nose when the tailor placed a circlet on his head, made from silver and lacking in decoration with the exception of a Sapphire at its front which rested against his Branded mark. Soren found himself reaching to adjust its position against his forehead often, unused to the accessory.

He wasn't the only one feeling uncomfortable in his own clothes.

Ike adjusted the Ettard in his sheath as the tailor outfitted him in a red coat and tall brown boots which made him look more like a royal advisor than a bodyguard.

The man had looked noticeably uncomfortable throughout the process; outright rejecting multiple additions as well as looking appalled when the woman had tried to replace his signature headband. "Is all this really necessary?" He asked as the woman fiddled with his cape, snorting with derision at the stains.

"Yes, my lord," she answered sharply, discarding the idea of a cape entirely. "In order to participate in court, one must present themselves well. It would be seen as disrespectful if you were to arrive dressed as you were."

"I have been to court dressed like that before," Ike argued, frowning.

"You were not part of court gatherings then. Anyone who enters any form of political event needs to abide to certain dress standards. Although you are entering as a bodyguard, Lord Ike, you need to follow these rules too. Any lack of care on your part reflects sourly on your charge."

In truth, Ike had been dressed up to attend court gatherings before, after the Mad King's war. That didn't mean he wasn't going to question the point of the entire process.

They were being dressed up for a feast to 'celebrate the return of the lost Daein heir.' To Soren's understanding, it was an event organised very recently by Micaiah at a group of noble's insistence. He suspected they wanted to get a read on his ability to play the political game of the Daein courts: whether he would be easy or hard to manipulate should he reach the throne, as well as to decide whether they should back his bid to power or Micaiah's. Soren considered the advantages of trying to turn this against them; to use their need to gain his favour to try and speed up the process of abdicating the throne.

As Soren had understood it from his earlier library visit, the process of abdicating a throne functioned differently in every country. In Crimea, for example, abdicating a throne was a tricky thing which could take several months. As the country relied heavily on its monarchy, there always needed to be an heir to take up the throne. To abdicate, a group of Crimean officials needed to determine who the next in line would be, contact them, and place them into training to be the next ruler before said person could withdraw. Until then, they were very much forced to rule the country or risk anarchy. There had been a few instances in Crimean history (just after it had broken away from Begnion) where Crimean rulers had abandoned the throne rather than wait for the official documentation. Those times went down as some of the darkest in the country's history.

In Daein, the throne was easier to forfeit, thankfully. Never mind that there was another candidate prepared to be crowned, Daein also had a small parliament in place who worked to run the country during times where there was no obvious heir. Daein was a country known for its military. It made sense that the place was constantly prepared for its ruler to change suddenly or to go without a king at all. However, official documentation still needed to be drawn up which would regretfully take time.

The woman patted down Ike's attire, trying to smooth out the creases in the cloth. "That Maiden rarely organises events like this, you know. Something about how we must try to 'avoid living in excess,'" She snorted with disgust. "I imagine she is only hosting in order to not look bad so don't expect much."

Happy with her work, the tailor packed her scissors and measuring tape into a bag before nodding her farewells. Soren and Ike shared an eye roll. "You know," Ike muttered as he flopped onto the bed as he was won't to do after dealing with anyone from the upper classes. "I think those with lots of money are just crazy. Maybe gold gives off fumes or something."

Soren breathed a laugh which was more of a snort. "That's unlikely, since we have earned quite a few sizable pay checks in our time and we are rather sane."

"True. It could be the wine?"

"Just as well I don't drink."

"I may drink, just to try and get through this evening," Ike groaned. "I swear if this feast is anything like the ones back in Melior I will be unimpressed."

Soren fiddled with the circlet again. The metal was uncomfortable and he considered removing it but he would have to get used to it at some point. At least he could get away with fussing with it for now without it becoming scandal. "You can stay here if you want to, Ike," he said. "I know you don't like anything to do with the courts. I wouldn't hold it against you."

Ike sighed, an arm resting over his forehead. "But you don't like the courts either. It would be unfair on you. Besides, I doubt it would be as unbearable if we are there together and hayy, maybe you will be the one forced to dance all night for once and I will get to enjoy the food."

"You hate the portions, though."

"I hate dancing more and you should leave that alone," Ike pointed to the circlet with a smile.

Soren stayed his hand at the advice, feeling even more uncomfortable. Everything felt wrong. The room felt wrong, his status felt wrong, his clothes and even his skin were beginning to feel wrong. He tried to dismiss the feeling but it only grew. He knew he was going to be gawked at by a bunch of ignorant nobles once the event started and Soren acknowledged this with a sense of dread. The mage didn't like interacting with people at the best of times. He could even go through long spells where he didn't talk to Ike for no reason other than needing his own space.

The idea that he would now have to spend several hours in the company of people he despised and with no way of backing out made him feel oddly trapped.

"You know," Ike began; not noticing Soren's discontent. "As much as you don't like all this stuff your clothes suit you, at least."

Soren looked down at his clothes subconsciously, his mouth set in a line. "They are uncomfortable."

"But at least they make you look nice," Ike pressed. Soren supposed he was trying to make him feel more positive about the situation, not that it was particularly working. "Imagine what it would be like if they looked terrible."

"Then I wouldn't attend," Soren stated bluntly.

"Oh?" Ike seemed surprised. "I thought you didn't care about what others thought."

"I don't, but I wouldn't want to give the nobility something else to bother us about."

Before Ike could reply a knock sounded on the door and Mist poked her head around, a grin on her face. She was also supposed to attend the event along with the other Greil mercenaries but they were likely only going to interact in passing. She looked only half dressed; missing an earring and still wearing the same leggings she had worn the day before.

"Hi, you two! I haven't seen you all day," she greeted enthusiastically.

"We have been hiding," Ike replied. "The nobles are being a bother."

"Aren't they always?" Mist laughed lightly. "Anyway, the event will be starting at six so you two should start making your way over. We will catch up in a bit. Boyd is taking forever to dress and I think Gatrie is hitting on some woman again."

"Alright," Ike nodded, getting up from the bed with reluctance. He patted down his clothes, flicking off some fibres from the bed sheets. "Let's get this over with. Are you ready, Soren?"

"As I'll ever be," Soren replied, also standing up and following him out the door with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, when I envisioned how this story was going to go I decided very early on that I wanted Soren to say to Micaiah - ('So don’t worry, Micaiah, you won’t have to compete for the crown with me') - at some point. This line has always stuck with me for some reason. So, I decided to get the scene over with now. Micaiah is going to be very much a felt presence, even though I doubt she will feature in many scenes. I mean, this is chapter five and only now has she made an appearance even though she is mentioned every five seconds. 
> 
> On a final note, I have begun the process of editing the earlier chapters. I wasn't really happy with how they had turned out and found they felt rushed even though very little was actually happening. I have only edited chapter one so far. None of the changes are vital, though, so don't feel the need to go back and reread it unless if you wish to. Thanks to everyone who has kept reading to this far and I hope this story will continue to entertain you.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay. This chapter proved to be rather tricky to write. However, I hope you all enjoy it regardless.
> 
> There is a trigger warning for this chapter but it is spoilerish. I have placed it in the end notes for those who are nervous and don't mind a mild spoiler.

The ballroom was very big, as was expected from a room whose primary function was to host events. Chandeliers hung from high ceilings, bathing the room in light, while the walls were littered with paintings of historical Daein figures. The room had two levels, kept separate by a large set of double doors. The first section, whose most notable feature was its tall staircase, mostly acted as a way of setting up for the grandeur of the second section which contained the ballroom itself. A balcony oversaw the dance floor. Soren supposed it must be to observe the dancing below.

Soren thought it seemed rather unfitting for Daein keep. Most of the keep was dimly lit and coloured in dark stone and deep colours. What decorations the keep did employ were battle-orientated; old swords used by long dead kings and the occasional emblem of an exterminated tribe. The ballroom here, though, looked like something straight out of Crimea castle. It seemed too bright and too domestic in Soren's eyes to be part of the battle-hardened Daein's royal house.

Nobles swept around the two levels, talking amongst each other. Gossiping, most likely. It disgusted him to think he was one of them.

Ike seemed equally disgusted, narrowing his eyes when he heard their petty words. Soren supposed he was suddenly feeling grateful that neither Elincia nor Sanaki acted in such a way despite also being nobles. Soren would never have been able to tolerate their presences either if they were anything like the people here.

One such noble eyed Soren as he passed. He seemed irritated by his presence at first before realisation sunk in. "Your highness!" He greeted, only slightly inclining his head into a bow. Soren knew that this would be considered an insult to most members of the royal family, never mind a prince. One must always bow from the waist, even nobility, when greeting royalty.

Soren wasn't the only one to notice the disrespect. A group of three who watched from a corner seemed both amused and surprised by his gall.

"What a pleasure to make your acquaintance, your highness. I do hope the interior is to your liking," he continued. Something in his tone bled sarcasm.

Soren, despite never operating in the courts, knew much about the court games that were played. Gossip and love affairs (anything scandalous) was the life blood of the upper classes. Many dukes and nobles were bored with their ease of life and some purposely created drama for the sake of entertainment. A thought occurred to Soren that if he wanted to survive his time in the courts, he would need to learn how to handle these games.

Soren paused before he replied. The man was being disrespectful likely because he felt he could get away with it. Soren, however, was not so easily made a fool of.

Crossing his arms behind his back, he said finally, "Have you a need of me?"

Taken aback by his bluntness, the man paused before he continued. "No, your highness, I have no need of you. I just wished to greet the lost prince."

"With all due respect then, my lord, if you have no need of me I would very much like to continue on. This event is being held in my honour, after all."

"Oh… very well."

The trio in the corner laughed at the exchange, smiling approvingly at him. Soren passed them all without a second glance.

Once they were a distance away from their ears, Ike raised a brow. "What was all that about?"

"He was trying to make a mockery of me," Soren replied casually. "I put him in his place."

"He was?" Ike seemed genuinely surprised. Soren knew that Ike had never learnt about the court at all growing up, including how to act within it. There had been quite the upheaval back in Melior, when Ike had ignored the multiple different forks during the victory feasts. The nobility had made their displeasure with his behaviour loudly known.

Even as early on as the victory celebrations, the mercenaries had found the nobility tiresome. They had barely lasted two years in their presence before they thought enough was enough.

"Yes, Ike," Soren replied.

Ike turned to look back at the man, seeming discontent. Soren nudged him to keep walking.

~~X~~

That noble wasn't the only one who treated him disrespectfully.

Even before the feast officially began, multiple guests dropped his title or made scathing comments about his low-class background. They were treating him, in the most masked manner possible, as if he were beneath them and Soren was constantly reminded why he despised them so. While Ike didn't always catch on to their subtle insults, even he was beginning to understand. He probably would have voiced his annoyance if Soren wasn't so quick at getting them out of those situations.

The ones who _were_ pleasant weren't much better. Their words were so sickly sweet that they disgusted Soren even more than those who insulted him. Irritated and on the verge of throwing an Elwind at them, he excused himself to venture out into the surrounding gardens for a spell.

The gardens - like the ballroom - were decorative, but Soren didn't stop to admire the scenery. Sitting down on a bench with a sigh, he clenched his fists and murmured something in ancient tongue.

"Are you alright?" Ike asked after a pause, sitting beside him. He rested a palm on his shoulder and looked contemplatively at Soren's hair for a moment before meeting his eye. Ike sometimes liked to run his fingers through Soren's hair to soothe him. Soren was grateful he decided against the action; especially since they were in public and such a motion would definitely cause scandal. 

Soren glanced at Ike with tired eyes. His fists gradually unclenched and his body began to relax as he embraced the momentary peace. "No," he admitted. "These people are so… intolerable. How can anyone stand to listen to them?"

"I don't know. At least the feeling seems to be mutual."

Soren muttered more ancient tongue under his breath. "I should imagine it's because of Micaiah," he mused, now with less bite to his tone.

"You think Micaiah would say bad things about you?"

"No, that's not what I mean," Soren said. "Micaiah is the more popular option for becoming ruler, remember. They probably see me as a threat."

"But you don't want to rule."

"They don't know that and, technically, I have a more legitimate claim. Blood beats good-will in the nobleman's game."

Ike frowned, eyes moving to stare at a nearby fountain. Eventually, Soren followed his gaze. The water was mesmerising; falling in intricate cascades. He supposed that it was likely powered by magic. Most features were.

They watched the fountain for a little while; both of them finally beginning to relax again. Ike slightly turned his head towards him. "Soren?"

"Yes?"

Ike hesitated. "Are you… disappointed… that you weren't raised as a royal?"

"No," Soren replied instantly. "Not even a little, especially after seeing the people here. Why do you ask?"

"It's just that… you have suffered so much in your life because you were abandoned; so much so that I worry you'll never fully heal from it. I thought that seeing the life you could have had…"

Soren considers him slowly, mulling over the idea. To be raised as a noble… maybe he wouldn't have been so opposed to them if he had grown up in the courts. Yet, the idea of gossiping and complaining and wearing clothes more expensive than they had any right to be disgusted him. However, the years he had spent as an outcast were without a doubt the hardest part of his life. Soren didn't know what he would choose if he had to make a choice between them.

Before Soren could answer, though, a few of the Greil Mercenaries entered the gardens. Soren spotted Rolf first, who, at the age of eighteen, was no longer a child. The archer was talking about something with Oscar and he, in comparison, hadn't changed much at all. Last Soren had heard Oscar was to rejoin the military. Judging from him being at this event, though, Soren guessed he hadn't rejoined as of yet.

They weren't the only ones. Mist had linked arms with Boyd, smacking his arm when his gaze lingered on one of the serving girls. Rhys walked alongside them, silent yet seemingly happy.

With the exception of Boyd, Soren had neutral feelings on all of these Mercenaries. None of them had particularly been a bother to him during the wars (which surprised him especially in Rolf's case - young children often got under his skin.) They had all followed orders well and performed their assignments with skill. He wasn't friends with any of them, but he didn't hate any of them either.

And then there was Boyd.

Boyd made Soren question Mist's sanity. The man was an idiot in every sense of the word. He was too spirited to follow orders and the pair had clashed on multiple occasions. Although he wasn't as offensive as Shinon, Soren couldn't say that he particularly liked him

"Ike! Soren!" Mist greeted cheerfully, making her way over to them. Ike returned her smile. "This is where you have been hiding! The feast is about to begin soon. If you don't want to miss the food, you should make your way over soon."

"Alright, Mist," Ike nodded before he turned to the other mercenaries. "Nice to see you all again."

"Nice to see you too, Comma- I mean, Ike!" Rolf corrected himself with a smile. "Hello, Soren," he greeted politely. Soren nodded in response.

"We should meet after the festivities," Oscar smiled lightly. "Then we can catch up."

"That works. C'mon, Soren," Ike turned to the mage as he gradually stood. "I don't want to miss dinner."

~~X~~

The feast ended with Soren more irritable than he had been in a long time.

Lifting the circlet off his head and placing it on the bed stand, he got dressed for bed without his usual calm. Heaving off boots with more force than necessary, he pulled off the robe and changed into his regular tunic. His mind buzzed with insults he would have gladly shared with them if they'd asked.

The rest of the event had been more of the same. Silent jabs, whispered gossip… The only difference was that Soren had no excuse to walk away.

Flopping on to his bed uncharacteristically, he sighed through his nose. Ike spied him with his own tired look, dressing much less vigorously than the mage. He considered offering words of comfort but he didn't know how to go about it. Instead, Ike continued to dress, placing his sword against a nearby chair as he loosened his belt.

Soren embraced the silence

Once Ike was finished dressing, he sat beside him on the bed. Soren reached into his hair and started to pull at the bindings, pulling some stands free from his head due to his lack of care. Slamming them down on the bedside table, he pulled them out with shaking hands.

"Slow down, Soren," Ike said but Soren disregarded the advice, yanking another clasp free. He was about to repeat the action again with the last one when Ike's hand found its way into his hair, fiddling with the clasp gently. Soren lowered his hand and suppressed an objection as Ike worked at it, taking some time due to his unfamiliarity. He eventually managed to gently pull it free and set it beside the others.

"I'm going to go get a drink," Ike commented as he stood, pulling his boots back on. "Want anything?"

"No," Soren replied.

"Alright."

The room fell into silence again.

~~X~~

Balancing the cup beneath the tap, Ike lifted the stopper and let the water flow into it. The water splashed as it did so, some getting on his hands, but he ignored the cool as he set the stopper back down again. Drinking from the cup, wincing from the coldness, he headed back to his room.

It was as he walked back that he realised he was being followed. Noticing he had no sword, having left it in the room, Ike stopped and spoke up. "Who is there?" If he were attacked he would have to rely on his own strength.

Luckily, it was no attacker.

Almedha emerged from her place in the shadows, her dress almost as dark as the night. Her eye seemed to glow in the dark; a trait that her son had inherited. Thinking about it now, it was a wonder he hadn't noticed the resemblance. Almedha seemed unsure, wringing her hands.

"Lady Almedha," Ike greeted. He refused to smile but he wasn't going to be unpleasant to the woman. He had heard a little about what life was like between Almedha and Ashnard and how Soren was a child born out of a mutual attraction, not love. Yet, the exact circumstances of Soren's abandonment were unknown to him. It felt unfair to judge her too harshly when he didn't understand.

"Hello, Ike," she returned. "Did you enjoy the festivities?" Almedha's tone was stiff.

"Not really, no. Was there something you needed from me, Lady Almedha?" Ike asked bluntly. He knew full-well what she wanted to discuss so he saw no point in beating around the bush.

"Ah, yes…" Finally seeming to notice her fidgeting, the woman clasped her hands together. "I feel I must… explain myself."

"I don't mean to be rude, but I think you owe Soren an explanation more than you owe me one," Ike said.

Almedha closed her eyes at the suggestion. "Do you feel he would meet with me if I requested it?"

If he was honest with himself, Ike doubted it. Ever since they had arrived in the capital, Soren hadn't mentioned Almedha once. He seemed in some sort of denial over her importance. Ike stayed silent in way of response and Almedha sighed.

"My sweet son… when I saw him again I was amazed how strong he'd grown. The moment I saw him again, I knew he was my child. He may look nothing like Ashnard beside the colour of his skin, but the resemblance between us… he truly is the son I lost… ah…" Almedha forced herself to hold back tears.

"If you knew Soren was your son, why not say something?" Ike asked.

"I… saw the life he had made for himself. I wanted nothing more than to reunite with my son as I thought he was dead for many years. The confirmation he was alive and thriving was enough for me. Don't misunderstand, I wanted to accept him as my son as I had Pelleas, but… it seemed wrong. I felt like I'd be intruding on his happiness."

Ike could see the sense in that so he nodded. "Yet, the truth came out somehow."

"Yes. I was discussing Soren with my brother when we were overheard. The news spread from there… I tried to stop it, but it happened so quickly. The entire keep knew within hours."

"I see."

Silence spread between them as Almedha knotted together her fingers. "I… wish to meet with him, but I am unsure if he feels the same way."

"Honestly, Almedha, I'm unsure as well. Even if he did meet with you… I'm not sure how pleasant he'd be. He's had a difficult since you abandoned him-"

"I didn't abandon him!" Almedha cut in, distraught. "I'd never-"

"Even if you didn't," Ike intervened, "he feels like you have abandoned him. I don't want to force him to meet with you if he doesn't want to. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, I understand, but please… I must explain..."

Ike barely knew her yet he sensed her desperation. Rubbing a hand on the back of his head, he ceded. "I will do all I can, but if he is adamant, you must respect his decision. Is that fair?"

"Oh, thank you," She said, relief in her voice. "Thank you so much."

~~X~~

Lying in the bed, Soren found himself drifting to sleep when there was a rattle. The sound was faint; so faint that it would be un-hearable should there be any other sound accompanying it. It seemed so insignificant that Soren disregarded it as movement from the chandelier and didn't open his eyes.

Then there was a breeze and he heard a flutter of cloth. He wondered to himself if Ike had returned. Soren opened his eyes drowsily, looking for the source of the sound in the dark.

Instead of a person, what he saw was the shine of metal.

Soren quickly lifted his hands to shield himself, catching the blade by its sides before it could stab into him. There was a grunt of surprise from his attacked.

Maintaining his momentum, Soren tried to push the weapon away. He was not known for his physical strength; were his attacker not caught off guard by his awakening he would be dead.

Blood dripped down the blade from his hands. The blade dug into his palms and fingers and he hissed in pain, using his pain to empower him. The blood made maintaining his grip difficult, making the surface of the metal slippery.

Managing to push the weapon far enough away so that he could escape, Soren rolled to the other side of the bed as he released his grip on the blade. Trying to find his tome in the dark was impossible and he found himself trying to figure out his options even as his attacker recovered.

Deciding against attacking them head-on, he made a movement. The attacker was quick to catch-on, however, and stepped in front of the door with the blade fully recovered. In the night, all Soren could see was their shadow. The mage stumbled backwards as the shadow made for another swipe and another. The first strike he managed to dodge, but the second struck him on the shoulder. With a scream, Soren hit the floor, the blade still embedded in his body. He regarded it with shock.

Soren felt the warmth of his blood stain his tunic and he could barely feel the tips of his fingers. Everywhere hurt. Everywhere felt numb.

His attacker grabbed his neck, pushing his head to the floor, before he began to tighten his grip. Soren attempted to curse and shout but he only gasped, scratching at their arms and hands. The mage began to feel a strange buzzing in his ears as he struggled to breathe, his chest burning from the need for air. "Die, half-blood scum," the voice hissed in his ear, tightening their grip.

"Soren!"

There was a flash, a harsh breath and a blood splatter. The body which had held him down relaxed, falling backwards in death.

"Are you alright? Soren?"

Soren gasped for the air, savouring the feeling of it in his lungs. Once his need was sated, he began to cough wildly, rubbing at his throat as he did so. He almost cried out from pain, staring down at his hands in shock. They were badly cut. "I… I'm alright, Ike…" he spoke between gasps.

"What happened?" Ike asked, unable to properly see the mage in the dim light. He spoke rather calmly despite what he had walked in on.

"I… I think… it must have been an assassin," Soren tried to force a steady voice but it was impossible. Ike momentarily left his side to light a candle before retuning, spying Soren's hands with a wince. The knife was also still protruding from his shoulder. Soren refused to look at the wound.

Blood ran down his arm.

"You need to see a healer. Rhys is just down the hall. Are you okay with waiting here for a second?"

"I-Ike…" Suddenly feeling light-headed, he felt the room begin to tilt. Ike caught his arm before he could hit the floor but the sudden pain sent him overboard. Feeling his limbs weaken, he slumped forward and then, all he could feel was the dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Trigger warning - attempted murder and some gore)
> 
> I’m thinking of taking this fic in a slightly different direction to what I initially envisioned. When I first conceived this, I wanted this fic to be largely about political intrigue. However, I have come to the realisation that this sort of story plan would be rather tricky to make interesting. So, I am considering making the courts take a bit of a backseat (though they won’t be totally gone) in favour of family drama (i.e Soren and Almedha) and a bit more action i.e the end of this chapter. However, we’ll see how it goes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was without a doubt the hardest one to write so far and I'm sorry that it isn’t the most interesting of chapters. However, more stuff shall happen from the next chapter onwards so I hope that shall redeem this.

Soren was awoken by the feeling of a hand against his throat.

In a way the feeling was a comfort. The fingers were warm and although they weren't soft, they were far from rough. They lightly pressed against his neck in various places, dancing around the bruising. Then the memory, the lack of air, came flooding into his mind and Soren stiffened. He grasped the wrist of the offender and pushed it away before its grip could tighten. The sudden movement caused a shock of pain to shoot down his side but he didn't allow himself to voice his discomfort.

Then Ike's eyes, wide with surprise, became clear through the blur. A candle flickered behind him. Ike's body cast a long shadow across the bed from his chair. "Easy, Soren!" He soothed, slowly lowering his hand back down.

"Ike?" Soren blinked, confused. "What are you doing…?"

"I was checking the bruises on your neck. I'm sorry I startled you."

Soren ran his hand across the location self-consciously, wincing a little at the pain. It seemed whoever had healed him had done what they could about the bruising but heal staffs could only stitch things back together, like skin or bones. Bruises needed to mostly heal on their own time.

Remembering where he had been impaled, Soren glanced cautiously at his shoulder. The wound had been dressed and likely healed but such a large wound would scar. Soren, however, couldn't see the scarring through the bandages (not that he really wanted to) so he turned away with a slight frown.

"It's good to see you are looking more awake now," Ike said. "You have seemed pretty out of it for a while."

"Sorry for the trouble," Soren replied, glancing down at his hands. There were no bandages but two scars remained on his palms, blending in with the natural lines. He flexed his fingers carefully and winced when he felt that the wounds were still irritable despite having scarred. He hoped the pain would ease after a while.

Ike frowned. "Don't apologise. You gave me quite a scare, though. I worry what would have happened if I didn't return when I did."

Soren closed his eyes, remembering the events in his mind's eye. Now that he was in somewhat safe company, he kicked himself for being so ill prepared. He was a strategist by profession. It was his job to always be prepared for any situation. Yet, even he, who was more careful than any other, had managed to be taken off-guard. The thought left him disconcerted.

"If you didn't return when you had… I probably wouldn't be here right now," Soren admitted, although he doesn't like playing into Ike's fears. The mage knew it would offer little solace to Ike if he lied. "Whoever it was that attacked overpowered me. I had no weapon. Were I alone, I doubt I would have been able to free myself. It seems I yet again owe you my life, Ike."

Ike sighed, running a hand through his hair. In the dim light Soren could see the twitching of his eye. Soren wondered how long Ike had been awake at his bedside. "This place seems to just keep getting worse," Ike said. "While you were recovering, Micaiah ordered an investigation into who ordered the attack on you. They examined the body too; for signs of an assassin's crest or a mercenary sigil."

"And?" Soren inquired, raising a brow. He made to prop himself up as it seemed improper to discuss such serious matters while lying down but Ike sent him a look to still him.

Looking oddly angry suddenly, Ike looked down at Soren's hands; at the scarred lines that would never go away even if the pain did. "The man was no simple assassin. He was a castle guard. He was apparently known for his high belief in Micaiah having fought alongside her at the Rhibarn River. The inspection team believe that he saw you as a threat to her rule and tried to kill you, using his position as a guard to infiltrate your room while not coming under question."

"I see," Soren considered carefully. Soren wasn't surprised on the motive. It was what he had expected before Ike even spoke it aloud.

Ike crossed his arms, still seeming dissatisfied. "Since we can't seem to trust the staff to ensure your safety, I have asked the other Greil Mercenaries if they would be willing to help guard you. Oscar is outside now, I believe."

"Ike… that really isn't necessary," Soren said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

Ike was at once dismissive. "It isn't? You were almost killed, Soren. I don't want to chance something like that happening again, if it can be avoided. Besides, the others seemed more than happy to do it. Or, at least, most of them were. Shinon outright refused but I doubt you would feel comfortable with him as a guard anyway. As for the others it's not like they are going to be guarding you for life; just until we are done here."

Soren knew the logic in Ike's words but he still wasn't satisfied. With the exception of Ike, he enjoyed solitude more than company. The knowledge that he would now be under constant surveillance (although a wise action given recent events) made him feel irritable. He considered protesting more strongly but Ike stared him into silence again. Soren supposed Ike would only force this situation on him were it truly necessary.

"There is something else, too," Ike continued.

"Yes?" Soren asked.

Ike leaned back in his chair, looking down at the bed sheets. It occurred to Soren then that they were not in their assigned quarters. However, the bed was too ornate to belong to the medical ward. It was likely they had been moved to a different room to avoid another confrontation.

Ike paused before he spoke. When he did speak, his voice was soft. "Before you were attacked, I talked with Almedha."

Soren froze at the name, suddenly remembering why he refused to think of her.

Almedha, the woman that had started all this trouble… Her name had become an almost forbidden thing to him. Forbidden like those spells the old sage forbade him to use, like the words of Ancient tongue he would be able to understand.

The mere mention of Almedha stirred up his childhood, of memories which were more bitter than sweet. He recalls the stab of hunger, impossible to ignore, the shouts from the woman who raised him, the insults of the sage who had taken him on as an apprentice. The church staff who had taught him speech were decent, but even they were not wholly kind.

He recalls the dismals of the beast laguz, happier to see him starve than breathe. His death would not have harmed their conscience.

Almedha's name now stirred up such haunting memories in him, not the light, fleeting memories that others bore of childhood. Soren did not voice his thoughts aloud, however, remaining silent to allow Ike time to speak.

"She wants to meet with you," Ike said, perhaps trying to soften the word's blow by speaking calmly. The attempt was lost on Soren, though. The mage clenched his hand, ignoring the pain which spread.

After a brief pause, Soren bowed his head; allowing his hair to fall across his eyes. He didn't want Ike to see the hurt. "Good for Almedha," he muttered darkly. "But I'm afraid the feeling isn't reciprocal."

"Soren…" Ike drifted off, his eyes hardening. "I know that a lot has happened since you were separated -"

Soren laughed bitterly at his choice of words. "'A lot has happened,'" he spoke almost mockingly. "That is one way to put it, Ike. You can't honestly expect me to meet with her! She… she… she's the cause of all this! What good thing has that woman ever done?"

"She is your mother, Soren. Doesn't that count for something?"

Soren's jaw hitched at the suggestion, a snarl creasing his features. His eyes looked terrifying narrowed in the dark. Ike stiffens at the action, immediately thing how to fix the hurt he'd wrought, but the words had been said. The mage turned to look away from him.

"No, it doesn't count for anything!" Soren almost growled. "That woman's actions have only ever caused me to suffer. She knew full-well when she became involved with Ashnard that her filthy-blooded descendant would face hardship, yet she remained with him anyway."

In an attempt to calm the storm, Ike reached out to place a hand on the mage's shoulder but Soren batted it away without looking back. His words gradually increased in volume. "I have not a care in the world for Almedha's petty feelings and you can't expect me to, Ike. I despise her for everything she has let happen to me. She offends me more than anyone else ever could! You… she…" Soren began to stammer, hitches of sobs caught in his throat. The mage didn't know if they were of anger or sadness.

"Alright, alright…" Ike soothed, reaching out with his arm again but this time gesturing for a hug. Soren reluctantly accepted this time, trying to calm himself before the tears fell. "I'm sorry; I wasn't trying to force you to do anything. I was insensitive."

"I can't face her, Ike," Soren whispered with strain as a sob stung his throat, burying his head in the taller man's shoulder. Ike carefully wrapped an arm around his less injured side. "I don't want to know the reason for everything I had to go through! I'm not ready. I don't I ever will be ready."

"It's okay," Ike replied, slowly rubbing the mage's back. "Please forget about it."

~~X~~

Later, when Soren eventually managed to calm down and drift to sleep, Ike vacated the room; sighing through his nose. Oscar raised a brow at his lethargy. "Is Soren alright?" The paladin asked, his lance propped against the wall next to his hand, ready to be used if need be. He had been outside for a while.

Ike nodded, running his hands through his hair. "He's fine."

"Okay. Then are you alright, Ike?" Oscar pressed, turning his body to face his old commander. Looking at him like this, Ike seemed much older than he was. His eyes were bloodshot and half-lidded and his arms hung low.

"I'm fine. Only tired," Ike said bluntly, but there was no bite in his tone. "I haven't been kept awake like this since the Mad King's war."

"You should try to rest. Soren is safe now. I know we had a bit of a scare back there but please try to put it out of your mind."

"That is easier said than done."

"I suppose most things are." Oscar looked at Ike again and frowned. Greil's son seemed preoccupied, eyes looking more at the torches on the wall than at him. "Is something on your mind?" The paladin questioned, wanting to see if Ike would divulge. Ike had a tendency to bottle up his many problems. Oscar wished he wouldn't. The only one the old commander's problems ever seemed to ever harm was Ike himself.

Ike nodded. "There are a lot of things on my mind, I suppose, but I guess I will sort through them in the morning. I wanted to ask if you needed anything, Oscar. I imagine guard duty is pretty boring."

Oscar smiled. "I am fine."

"Fair enough."

Ike turned to re-enter the room but then he hesitates, his hand hovering over the door handle. Oscar raised a brow at the action but before he could question the move, Ike murmured a good night and stepped in.

Oscar watched the door after it closed before settling back against the wall. He wondered if Ike would re-emerge later on to talk about his woes.

Oscar remained alone until he was relieved.

~~X~~

The next morning brought with it a return to court for Soren.

Although Ike had protested the decision given his still present injuries, Soren proved the more persuasive. Shoving himself into a set of robes provided by the staff, Soren placed his Elwind tomb into the holster at his waist.

"It is important that they don't see me as weak following this incident." Soren explained, noticeably calmer than the night before. The mage didn't seem to even acknowledge that their conversation had even taken place. "If they see that this attack has weakened me, then more attackers will be sent. The nobles of the court no doubt know that the mercenaries are now acting as my guard. Seeing that I remain undeterred should put them off sending assassins to attack me in the night."

Ike placed his sword into his sheath; the blade was still slightly stained with blood. Ike wiped it away with a lingering glance. "They would risk that?"

"Assassinations are common in court and it is obvious that those who prefer Micaiah see me as a threat. In fact, I'm surprised the first one to strike was a guard and not a paid killer. So, yes, I think they would try something."

Soren reached for a scarf and wrapped it around his neck to hide the bruising. Soren had also placed his robes over the bandages but it was impossible to stop the occasional cringe when he moved his arm at an awkward angle. When he was fully dressed, Soren turned to Ike. "Ready?"

"I guess."

As expected, Soren's arrival brought with it many an odd-look. The court was meeting to discuss the pressing affairs of state, meaning that determining who should be considered the rightful ruler would be the core agenda. That was also part of the reason why Soren had insisted he attend. He wanted the court proceedings to proceed much more rapidly than they were currently.

Although Soren had never attended such a meeting before, he knew how they functioned. Taking a seat at the round table, the mage disregarded the looks he received and focussed his efforts on leaving the scarf alone. The linen felt odd against his neck, irritating the bruising when he moved. Ike, guessing that he was not welcome to also sit, stood behind his chair.

Later on Micaiah also entered, taking a seat beside him without a word. Sothe stood behind her, sharing a nod with Ike as silence fell across the room.

Once everyone had filled the seats, a man stood from his place at the top of the table and began to speak. "Due to there being no definitive leader within the royal family, I, the High Officer of the State of Daein, shall preside over this discussion. Our concern for this meeting is the state of the royal crown of Daein, since both of those who have a claim are present today."

The man glanced over to Soren and Micaiah. "We have two claims to the Daein throne here and we shall discuss their legitimacy. As is understood, Sir Soren – and not our Lord Pelleas – is the true blood son of the belated King Ashnard. However, like with Lord Pelleas, we have little to no evidence to support such a claim besides the fact he seems to posses Branded blood." A few people at the table sneered at the new knowledge, while others just seemed more interested in his claim. Soren's eyes became distant, trapped in old memories. Micaiah winced at the pain he practically bled.

"Sir Soren's stake in the court here could be little than a fabrication, despite this fact. Lady Almedha has been wrong before. However…" The High Officer focussed on Micaiah. "Lady Micaiah's claim is one of popularity, not blood. She has no connection to the Daein throne. Presuming Sir Soren is King Ashnard's heir, Lady Micaiah has no claim."

"But my lord," one of the nobles spoke up from the table. "There is no way we can definitively prove Sir Soren's heritage. We can't test his blood against that of a decaying corpse, my lord."

The High Officer nodded. "Indeed. That is why I ask how we should address this matter."

"I say the Prince has more claim," one noble argued. "Even if he isn't legitimate, he has been proven to be a brilliant military strategist. Better than our Lady Micaiah. We of Daein need a leader strong in military matters."

"The people wouldn't accept that," another disagreed. "Our Lady Micaiah has fought always for Daein. Sir Soren, even if he is the late King's heir, is no more Daein than Queen Crimea. The suggestion that we allow a foreigner commandeer our kingdom is preposterous."

"Our Lady Micaiah is of Begnion royalty. Yet, you would argue she is of Daein true?"

"She is more of Daein than he is. Sir Soren has only ever fought against us, assisting in the death of our King and fighting on the side of the Laguz alliance."

"Do not forget, though, Duke Vaan. Sir Soren's army only ever emerged victorious in these battles. He even managed to force our Lady Micaiah to retreat during the battle of the Rivain River, evading the Black Knight as he did so. He is capable as a militant!"

"Lord Ike could have been the cause of their victories!" Another noble invaded the debate. "The success of the Laguz alliance and Queen Elincia's reclamation could have nothing to do with Sir Soren."

"You forget also! The newly crowned King of the Beasts, King Skrimir, and Queen Elincia have showered Sir Soren with praise. Why would they do this if he had nothing to do with their victories?"

"Exactly _because_ he had nothing to do with their victory. Their show of support may have been a ploy to have us stuck with a weak king, one we can ill afford to have after such harsh times."

The debate raged on for a while, both sides not ceding in their views. Micaiah and Soren remained silent through the arguing, merely observing the conflict that arose. Soren spied Ike rubbing his forehead, not sure if he was being dramatic or a legitimate headache was arising. They were certainly arguing rather passionately.

It was as the debate went on that Soren considered the advantages of announcing his will to abdicate as of that moment. From the way the debates were going, it would probably be faster to risk some nobles trying to block abdication proceedings in the hope he would change his mind than to try and gain favour. Most of the people at the table were too stuck in their own opinions to change who they thought would be the best suited to rule now.

Soren raised a hand, sealing his choice.

"Yes?" The High Officer asked, effectively silencing the discussion. The eyes of everyone at the table turned to him. Micaiah suddenly seemed conflicted. Soren supposed she knew what he was going to say.

Soren cleared his throat before he spoke, making sure to keep his voice steady. "My lord, I have known since my heritage was revealed to me that I would like to pass on any right I had to the throne to a worthier candidate. I was not raised by King Ashnard and I have no love for Daein. It would not be suitable for me to rule when I am not only inexperienced in being a ruler but also know little on Daein's culture."

"Then, you wish to abdicate?" The High Officer raised his brows. Some nobles at the table smirked at the new knowledge while others glared at him.

"I do. Lady Micaiah is the better option," Soren answered levelly.

One of the nobles huffed out a, "How sweet." Soren bit his lip to suppress a retort.

The High Officer began to straighten up in his chair. "Well, in light of this revelation, I herby conclude this gathering. I shall organise for abdication documentation to be drawn up and then Lady Micaiah shall be deemed the next heir. I shall summon you, Sir Soren, when that time arises."

Soren nodded and the people at the table continued to either celebrate of condemn his decision.

Micaiah shuddered, her eyes distant in farsight. Soren didn't want to know what it was he had allowed to occur.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild Homophobia (someone makes a remark) and violence in this one. Please proceed with caution.

Almedha's eyes turned downcast when he told her and he is reminded of Soren immediately. _'She truly is his mother…'_ Ike frowned when she looked away, eyes glistening. She was going to cry.

"Thank you for your efforts, Lord Ike," Almedha said, looking like she was trying to stop the tears from leaving her and failing. She covered her face with a handkerchief trying to hide the salt water. Ike felt sorry for her, felt sorry that Soren couldn't face her, but that was the condition on which his help was bought.

"It's alright," Ike said. She really did look like Soren when she cried; covering up her face and closing her eyes in the hope that if she hid it well enough the feeling would disappear too. Ike considered offering words of comfort, but it felt like betrayal. "I'm sorry he doesn't feel differently."

Almedha smiled mournfully at his words, tears running down her cheeks and leaving silvery trails. "As do I."

She turned and began to walk away, tears continuing to fall. Ike watched her leave in silence.

~~X~~

Ike had known Soren for a long time and, as such, he knew much about his short-comings. Soren was racist (despite improving much in this department) overly cold and generally uncaring towards others. A lot of these things could be blamed on his troubled childhood, but Ike silently disagreed with the suggestion. Those who had made Soren who he was were horrid, but that didn't mean the mage got a free pass in presuming others were the same.

Ike struggled often with him. It was hard to yell when Soren was harsh; the times he had only served to make Soren lose confidence in himself. However, Soren's distaste for others, especially laguz, not only offended the person in question but Ike as well. To allow him to continue was not an option.

So, Ike finally resolved to talk Soren down when he was rude; to explain why the mage should cooperate or why another point of view may be optimal. It didn't always stop some party becoming offended, but it had more success than earlier methods.

But he doubted such an approach would work for whatever had harmed Soren now.

Soren had buried himself in his books, going through tomes much more vigorously than was usual from him. Soren loved to expand his studies, but the degree to which he'd allowed them to envelope him concerned Ike. He didn't know what had caused it; whether it was Almedha, their soon departure from the court or something else, but something had caused him to shut off.

"Soren, are you alright?" Ike asked one evening, balancing some food on a plate before putting it down onto the desk. Soren eyed it with disgust.

"I am fine," Soren answered dismissively. He turned a page in his tome without paying the food another glance. "Why do you ask?"

"You have been in this library a lot lately."

"I enjoy reading and the books keep the nobles away," Soren stated with furrowed eyebrows, as he often did when nobles appeared in conversation. Ever since his decision to abdicate the throne was announced, the mage had been the subject of much scrutiny from both sides of the rulership campaign. Those who wanted Micaiah to rule despised him for being a threat, despite his decision, while those who had backed him saw him leaving as cowardly.

Ike had asked for more help from the Greil Mercenaries to strengthen his guard. Boyd and Mist's voices could be heard easily in the quiet of the library.

Soren looked up from his tome. "You don't have to sit with me, you know," he spoke in a firm tone. "I know reading isn't your thing. Go do something you might enjoy."

"Is that an order?" Ike asked, arching a brow.

"Yes. You have done very little in Nevassa since we arrived here. Maybe you could try to do a little exploring of the area?"

Ike suspected that he was becoming a bother, constantly at Soren's shoulder. Despite their closeness, Soren was a loner at heart – he sometimes needed alone time to relax. Ike considered the suggestion before sighing, standing up from his seat. "All right, but you are telling me what is wrong when I get back."

Soren smiled slightly as Ike pulled his cloak around him. "We'll see."

~~X~~

In the wars, Ike always thought of Nevassa as a dismal place.

Snow constantly fell across the streets for the majority of the year, inconveniencing traders who tried to go about their work and causing many to slip as they walked across the ice. Ike dug with his heels as he walked in order to prevent such a thing.

The only people who ever seemed to enjoy the snow were children, and even then the natives had grown to hate the weather more than love it.

Thick, white clouds hovered across the capital, as they always did. Sleet poured from them, freezing his body, especially his hands, and making him feel grateful that he had brought his cloak.

Despite the weather, street vendors continued to work. "Hello, young man," a lady with hair swept back in a bandana grinned down at him. She swept her hand across her wares. "Anything catch your interest?"

Ike smiled politely and shook his head, "No, thanks. Just looking around."

Although Nevassa was still dreary, it was still a much cheerier place than during the wars.

"Commander Ike?"

Ike turned and spotted who had called him. Sothe had a scarf wrapped around his neck, almost covering his mouth, but he was still audible. Ike nodded as he approached, but not before spotting the girl at his side.

Micaiah looked like she had seen better days. Her eyes were directed to the ground, but it was obvious she was thinking of other things. Sothe prodded her with his elbow to get her attention and she blinked, glanced up and offered a smile. Odd.

"What brings you to the markets, Commander Ike?" Sothe asked, hugging his arms which he must have forgotten to cover.

"No business," Ike replied levelly. "Just exploring a little. And I'm not a commander anymore, Sothe. Ike is fine."

Sothe grimaced but nodded, adjusting his scarf. "Alright, then, Ike. Would you like some company? We could show you around, if you want."

Ike frowned. "You sure?"

Sothe nodded again. "Of course, it would be our honour. Right, Micaiah?... Micaiah?"

Micaiah blinked again and looked at him quizzically. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

Sothe sighed and repeated the question. Micaiah nodded slowly, though she seemed unsure in giving her consent. Ike raised a brow at her behaviour but didn't ask. Despite their involvement in the last war, he barely knew a thing about the girl. He was more familiar with the Goddess for whom she had acted as a vessel. For all Ike knew this was how Micaiah acted naturally.

Sothe ran a hand through his hair, mumbling something unaudible. Micaiah features stiffened at his words and she began running a hand up and down her arm. Sothe turned to Ike again. "Come on then, Com-…Ike. There is a lot to see."

~~X~~

"This is the city centre," Sothe gestured with his hand at the square. Stalls lined around a fountain which still flowed despite the cold. "As you may have noticed, Nevassa is very much a place for trade. Even though there is no war, weapons are still popular products. Many from Daein go into thievery or mercenary work, you see."

Ike nodded as they continued past the area, into one of the many back roads. "The back roads also mark the black markets," Sothe explained as they passed through. "We were trying to root out these markets as much as we could before you arrived… with varying success. It's a large industry and, although not exactly secret, is allusive."

"Why not just post guards to monitor the roads?" Ike inquired as they emerged on the other side.

Sothe wrinkled his nose. "We are quite low staffed, so we can't spare them. For now, the black markets flourish with little resistance."

"Why not employ mercenaries then?" Ike brushed shoulders with a passer-by and he apologised before continuing. "Surely that could help the staff problem, at least for a little while."

"Already tried," Sothe waved his hand dismissively. "Most groups are easily swayed by the merchants. They offer more coin than we ever could, never mind the fact that mercenaries charge double what we pay our guards. And our guards are not exactly on a poor wage. Your Greil Mercenaries are one of the few cheap, loyal groups to exist. We could feasibly hire your mercenaries, but to hire Crimean mercenaries for a Daein problem doesn't sit well with most in court. So no, for now, we will have to just manage the problem until things settle and we can invoke security measures."

Ike nodded and didn't argue again. It occurred to him that Sothe was quickly adapting to his role as future king. He had come a long way from the boy who had been a stowaway in Nasir's ship.

But some things still hadn't changed with Sothe, despite his new diplomacy.

The thief swept an eye over to Micaiah and a frown settled across his face. She once again seemed lost in thought, her expression distant. Not only that, she shook constantly. At first Ike thought it was due to the chill in the air but the longer she shivered, the more he suspected foul play. Sothe prodded her arm and she jumped. Sothe's frown deepened.

"Alright, Micaiah, what's wrong?" He asked levelly, crossing his arms. Micaiah stared back at him and swallowed.

"Nothing's wrong, Sothe. Don't worry about-"

"Don't lie. I know something's going on. You have been distant for days and it's frustrating to watch. Didn't we swear that we'd never keep secrets from each other?" Sothe insisted.

Micaiah bit her lip, sweeping her eyes from Sothe to Ike and back again. "I…" The words died on her and Ike didn't suppress the worry which rose inside. Sothe's brow raised. Micaiah released her lip from her teeth, doing everything but meeting his gaze. "I… had a vision. At… the council meeting."

"Alright. What kind of vision?" Sothe pressed.

"I… " Micaiah clenched her fists. "When Soren announced that he was going to abdicate the throne, he set something in motion. Something bad. The… the images of the future don't shine as brightly as they should."

Although he didn't entirely understand what she meant, Ike understood enough to make him reach for the hilt of his sword. "Is Soren in danger?" He asked, his voice a learned calm. He was very good at covering up his unease; it was almost necessary when he commanded an army who relied on him to be a pillar of strength.

Micaiah bit down on her lip again. Ike wondered if it was a nervous habit. "I don't know. All I know is that he set something to happen. I have been trying to see more but I haven't had anymore visions since."

"Why didn't you say something?" Sothe scowled at her. "We are supposed to deal with these things together."

"I didn't want to worry you. You can't stop what is going to happen and what point is there in worrying you?" Micaiah breath was stilted as breathed. "I am sorry, Sothe… I'm sorry I was too weak to keep this to myself and I'm sorry I was too strong not to tell you immediately."

Sothe sighed and began to run fingers through his green hair, eyes noticeably wearier. "It's fine… you had pure intentions. It's not your fault."

Micaiah bowed her head to emphasise her apology. Ike considered her display for a moment and found himself running his hands through his hair too. This royal business really was nothing but unnecessary trouble. "So, what should we--" he began when Micaiah stiffened, drawing in a sharp gasp. She looked up sharply, reaching for her hip.

An arrow whistled into her collar bone before she could grip her tome.

"Micaiah!"

Sothe rushed forward to steady her, blood spilling already from the wound. Ike turned to try and find the attacker but he could see none. He unsheathed his sword, scanning the stalls for a sign of movement. Micaiah cried out in pain.

A stack of crates shifted and an arrow flew towards him, this time, hitting him square in the shoulder. Stumbling and gritting his teeth in pain, Ike rushed towards the attacker with sword drawn. The area was too open to try and hide. Knowing his position was compromised; the person leapt onto a crate and fired another shot.

It was hard to properly look them over when running but Ike could see nothing distinguishable. It didn't help that their face was covered by their cloak.

Dodging sharply to the left as the arrow flew by, Ike prepared his sword to strike…

When another arrow struck him in the back of the knee and he fell, hissing as blood flowed from his wounds. Ike quickly attempted to stand but collapsed back onto the ground. The attackers were expert marksmen, no doubt. They knew just the place to strike to down him.

The thought occurred to him that he could die here and he dismissed it as fast as it came.

Shoving his sword into the ground, Ike forced himself to stand again and fight.

* * *

"You know, when Ike announced that you two were a thing I wasn't surprised," Shinon stated, leaning up against Soren's desk and spilling the papers onto the ground. The mage glared at him. "That one always was messed up."

Soren sneered at the man, wondering if it would be uncalled for to knock him off the table with a quick blast of wind magic. If the mage was lucky, Shinon might have the grace not to get back up.

Why the archer decided that he wanted to talk to Soren, the mage couldn't guess, but he could smell the alcohol wafting off the man's body even despite their distance. However, Soren had to admit that he seemed much better off than he usually was after a drink. Soren supposed he was only tipsy. His voice wasn't even slurring.

Shinon's hand glided across the table and knocked more papers to the floor. Soren resisted the urge to pick them up and clenched his hands beneath the desk to dispel the urge. "What do you want, Shinon?" he asked tersely.

"Just to chat with our special little prince. How's the neck?" Shinon pointed to his own neck in demonstration before he smirked. "Heard whoever had you owned a pretty good grip."

Soren clenched his fists harder beneath the desk, praying for his expression to remain as impassive as possible. If Shinon knew he was getting to him, it would only serve to encourage his behaviour. The mage knew more than anyone else that Shinon took joy from getting a rise out of others.  "You really are petty," Soren muttered, unable not to sound condescending. "Just leave me in peace. Go bother someone else, for once."

"And why should I listen to a whelp like you?" Shinon laughed. "Just because you are a blue blood you think you are worth something now? You must be kidding me. You are the same kid who hid behind Ike's apron like a babe and no child will boss me around."

Soren grip had tightened so much that the scars on his palms were beginning to throb but he ignored the pain, instead letting it empower his annoyance. He leaned backwards in his chair and crossed his arms, hands still closed into fists.

"And you are the same, useless drunkard as you ever were. However, unlike you, I have grown wiser and refuse to indulge in your idiocy as I once would. And you call me a child."

The mage made to stand but Shinon grasped onto his wrist before he could move away from the desk. Both of them glared at each other in contempt. Not breaking eye contact, Soren attempted to free himself from Shinon's grip but the archer proved stronger than he was. Boyd moved into the library, wary in case a fight broke out.

"What I wouldn't give to break this pretty wrist of yours and beat some respect into you," Shinon growled into his ear. Soren attempted to pull away again but Shinon refused to relinquish his hold. Despite the threat, Soren felt no fear from the man's words. Shinon never did deliver on his threats; he barely ever delivered on his word.

Realising he couldn't get away, Soren ran his free hand across the binding of his wind tome, lightly tapping the leather cover in warning. "Why must you make it your life purpose to be a hindrance to me?" Soren asked irately. 

"Don't flatter yourself," Shinon spat, pulling Soren closer so that they were mere centimetres apart. "You, Soren, are everything I despise in a person. Not only are you some half-blooded scum, but your father was the _wonderful_ Mad King. You lack respect for your superiors, thinking yourself so high and mighty when, in reality, you can't even escape from my grip. Not only that, but you are loyal to _Ike_ of all people." Shinon laughed scornfully. "That whelp is something else."

Soren stopped running his hand against his tome, instead gripping onto the cover. He could pull it out and cast a spell in less than a few seconds, if he wanted to. And right now, he _really_ wanted to.

"Say _one_ more word against Ike and I _swear_ -"

"Alright, that's enough!" Boyd placed his hands on their chests and pushed them apart. Stumbling, Shinon loosened his grip and Soren used the opportunity to free himself and head for the exit, far from in the mood to read or continue.

Soren could hear the shuffling of wood on the floor as Shinon righted himself. "Ike should have ended up with that shop keeper," Shinon shouted at his back. "He turned down that princess in order to avoid the court and he will soon leave you for that same reason. There will always be something that keeps you here, mark my words, but there is nothing to keep Ike at your side! Your loyalty is misplaced!"

Soren slammed the door behind him for good measure. Like that stupid man could ever understand his loyalty.

~~X~~

Storming down the hall, he ignored Mist as she ran up to walk beside him. She was supposed to guard him, Soren supposed. It would be unwise to let him walk alone and risk an attack. Still, Soren did not appreciate the company given his current mood; especially when she began to try and soothe him.

"I know Shinon can be a big jerk," Mist began as Soren rounded a corner. His flaring temper occupied him, but Mist continued to talk anyway. "However, I don't think he means most of the stuff he says."

"He sounded pretty genuine to me," Soren replied bluntly, looking down and heading into another hall, Mist jogging to keep up. Soren wasn't really sure where he was going to go, only that he needed to go _somewhere_.

Mist pouted at his tone. "C'mon Soren. Shinon says rude things. I'm pretty sure that's how he shows he cares. Try not to be too mad."

Soren glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "How poetic, now can you please either leave me in peace or be quiet. I'm not in the mood to talk about the joys of Shinon's character."

Mist huffed but obliged. Eventually escaping into the gardens, a place rather unkempt with dying flowers which struggled against the snow, Soren slowed his steps and allowed himself to breathe. It was ridiculous to let someone like Shinon get to him, he reasoned. Soren didn't even know why he had allowed himself to become so bothered by his words when it was in the man's very nature to offend.

Still, the archer's words had touched sensitive nerves. Nerves that were easily snapped.

_'There will always be something that keeps you here!'_

Soren breathed in another lungful of air and relaxed his shoulders, closing his eyes and feeling the air. Mist watched him with interest.

Opening his eyes, he examined the gardens; the festering weeds and suffocating flowers almost made the place look picturesque in an eerie sort of way, especially with the old garden ornaments cracking due to age and lack of care.

Then something moved from behind one of the ornaments and Soren froze.

Almedha emerged, hair in disarray and covered in sleet. She didn't notice him at first, bending back down to retun to her work. She clipped away at some weed and freed the flower bud.

"Lady Almedha?" Mist asked and the woman jumped, turned and froze.

Almedha's mouth opened slowly but no sound came out.

Soren just gawked at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a break from writing this last week which I probably should have announced beforehand. Whoops. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. It was certainly quite fun to write!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read up to this point. I hope future chapters shall continue to entertain.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blood warning in this one. Please proceed with caution.

Almedha was a beautiful woman in a sultry, bold sort of way. Even with brambles caught in her hair and her fingers bleeding from accidentally touching thorns. The flower she had picked slowly became slathered in her blood and she clenched her hands, crushing the flower and shredding the petals.

Soren would be a fool not to notice her beauty even now.

Ike had accused him once of possessing beauty of his own, back during the war after he had charmed that silly shopkeeper. The man had claimed that, were Soren kinder, he would have many a suitor.

Whether that was a biased opinion (given how their relationship had developed) or not, the mage supposed he owed whatever beauty he bore to his mother.

It was perhaps a shame that was all he felt he owed her.

Almedha kicked a branch with a heeled foot, recovering from her surprise. Soren, also recovering from his initial panic at the sight of her, forced himself to stand tall. He wanted to run. He didn't want to face her. It took every part of his will not to flee, but he had been to war; the mage was well experienced in facing things which made him afraid.

Soren had watched Ike leave him behind to fight the Black Knight. If he could do that, he could face this.

Still, he was afraid. Even as he thought of things he'd faced which were worse, he couldn't breathe back the hurt. Soren instead focussed on an outward expression of apathy.

Almedha coughed to clear her throat.

Soren blinked.

Mist glanced between them both but Soren didn't pay enough attention to note her expression.

"Excuse me," Almedha's voice shuddered a little, but she coughed again to strengthen it. She forced her eyes away from Soren to look at Mist. "Could you give us a moment?"

Mist turned to Soren for confirmation. Soren nodded slowly – Mist's presence was no comfort.

"Alright… I'll be just inside then."

They both waited for the door to close and then silence lapsed between them again. Soren's gaze never tore away from her. Almedha's eyes lingered at the point between his chest and chin. She slowly raised her hand and Soren flinched at the motion despite her being far from touching distance. The woman brought her hand up to her throat.

"Does… does that hurt?" She asked slowly, fingering the neckline of her dress absently.

Soren narrowed his eyes at the question, immediately asking himself what she was trying to achieve by asking such stupid questions. This woman was responsible for everything painful that had happened in his life and she would not escape her crime against him by trying to divert the topic.

The mage closed his eyes and took a deep breath to allow his irritation and anxiety to settle. Once he felt calmer, he spoke.

"What do you want to say, Lady Almedha? I have little tolerance for your attempt at meandering conversation," Soren said. He silently praised himself for not sounding too shaken.

"…Of course." Almedha looked down at her hands, paused, and then looked back up at him again. Her fidgeting was irritating as well as distracting but Soren swallowed down the comment. "Where to begin…"

"If you are trying to apologise, you shouldn't," Soren said.

Almedha raised a brow, seeming hopeful, but one glance at his eyes swept the expression away. Her shoulders stiffened and she looked down again, her hair moving to cover her face.

"I see…"Almedha said solemnly. "You have a right to your anger and your pain... I have failed you as a parent. I understand that."

"I don't want to listen to how guilty you feel," Soren said, crossing his arms and taking a step back.

Almedha flinched. "I see. However... I feel I should still offer you an explanation."

"Don't bother," Soren's eyes narrowed again.

Almedha bit down on her lip. "Then... why did you come here then? Why did you come to the gardens?"

"I didn't come here to talk to you," Soren said. "I know Ike told you that I didn't want to speak with you. I came here to try and find some peace and stumbled upon you. The only thing I agreed to was to have Mist leave."

Soren found himself fingering his sleeve with nerves but slapped his hand quietly when he noticed the tick.

"Frankly, Lady Almedha… I don't want to hear whatever it is you have to say. What reason you had for mating with the _Mad King,_ even though you knew what would result from it. What reason you had for abandoning me… Bluntly speaking, I care little for you. You are little more than a stranger to me, yet, you have caused me much hardship. What excuses you are going to conjure mean nothing in light of that."

It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the truth. Learning the reason for why he had been left to suffer meant nothing at all. It didn't take away the pain of his childhood. It could only worsen the pain. However, like it or not, Soren couldn't practice total indifference with Almedha herself. When he looked at her, he felt anger, pain … whether it was intentional or not, the woman had been the start of everything. Soren doubted he would ever learn to love her and he did not have the strength to forgive.

Soren breathed in a shaky breath, his throat beginning to sting as he thought of his childhood. The childhood she had allowed to happen. The last thing he wanted was to cry before her. The mage turned to leave but Almedha caught his wrist before he could take a step towards the exit. Her hand was shaking and he hated it.

"Please, wait," Almedha begged in a slightly pitched voice. "Please, don't run away!"

"Let go of me!" Soren hissed, not turning to face her. A tear escaped his eye and ran down his nose but he didn't reach up to wipe it away. Almedha couldn't see his tears from her position. The movement would betray his emotions. "There is nothing left to say."

"Please, listen. Hate me if you wish. Get angry, yell, hate me… but please… Please you have to let me tell you why—"

"Why, what?" It came out louder than Soren would have liked but he was too distracted to care.

Almedha's grip tightened slightly and the ends of her hair brushed his wrist. Small splatters of blood from her hands dripped onto his skin. Almedha didn't speak for a long time but when she did, she spoke with a resigned tone. "I know I was foolish. I was young and passionate and thoughtless. I didn't think of what my actions would create. I didn't mean to damn a child to life as a Parentless."

"Whether you _meant to_ or not—"

"Wait!" Almedha cut him off and Soren clenched his fist. "I know I made a mistake, but please understand I wanted to keep you. My intention was never to abandon you. Ashnard… he expected too much from you. He grew angered when he saw you possessed no unique power as a child. He lured us into a trap and captured my brother when he came to help."

"Your brother?" Soren inquired. After her spiel it seemed almost anticlimactic but it was all he could bring himself to question.

"Yes. My brother, Rajaion…" Almedha grip on his wrist slackened at the mention of the name.

"Ashnard forced him to take the feral drug. I believe you may have met him when you defeated Ashnard. The drug warped his body beyond recognition" Almedha paused, possibly to collect herself. "Those clasps you keep in your hair were a gift from him. He gave up his life to protect us both."

Soren brought up hand to his hair and brushed his fingers against the metal clasps. He paused and thought about whether he should say what was on his mind. The thing that would finally make this conversation end; what would show just how much he hated her.

Using Almedha's slackened grip to his advantage, Soren yanked his wrist free. "It then seems that it was not only my life you ruined, Lady Almedha. Congratulations."

Almedha froze and her fingers slowly drew away from him. Soren closed his eyes and began to walk away. He didn't need to turn around to know that Almedha had started to cry.

Another tear streamed down Soren's face but he didn't sob. The mage refused to reveal his weakness. Pausing before he reached the door, he clenched his fists again. The blood, Almedha's blood, had dried upon his skin.

"We shall not talk again, Lady Almedha. This was a mistake."

Soren moved through the door.

Almedha sunk to her knees and covered her mouth as she all but screamed in anguish.

~~X~~

Mist's eyes widened when she saw his tears. "Are you alright, Soren?" She asked, pushing herself away from the wall with her foot as she approached him warily.

Soren couldn't find it in himself to be humiliated. He felt drained, tired and wanted the day to be over. Wanted to be away from Daein. Every day spent seemed worse than the last. Whether it be nobles, assassins, parents or mercenaries; they all had managed to weaken him and they all had stacked upon each other to try and suffocate him beneath it all.

Soren was good with stress but he was not good with things which played with his emotions. And Daein was the most emotionally draining country in the known world.

The mage waved dismissively at Mist and walked past her without comment. He wiped away his tears despite not caring much for who saw them now. Mist trailed behind him quietly, having the sense not to try and offer comfort.

Heading for his quarters, Soren moved through hallways with a heavy head and tired eyes.

On their way past the library, though, they noticed Rolf waiting outside his door. The green-tressed archer fiddled with the string of his bow, seeming to be lost in thought. Upon noticing their arrival, Rolf's eyes widened and he rushed towards them, momentarily fumbling with his weapon. "Finally, you have come back," Rolf said.

Mist raised a brow at his agitation. "What is it, Rolf?"

Rolf frowned and Soren's chest tightened. Rolf rarely seemed so grave.

"There was an attack in Nevassa city centre. Lady Micaiah, Sothe and Commander Ike were all caught up in it."

Soren's chest constrained more and he couldn't breathe. Mist covered her mouth in horror.

"Are they alright?" Mist squeaked. "Is Ike safe?"

"I don't know. A messenger told us the news. Boyd and I were asked to retrieve you while the other mercenaries went on ahead. I- Hayy, Soren!"

Soren turned and ran down the halls.

_'This can't be happening.'_

~~X~~

Blood was running through the cobbles.

It reminded him of the day Greil had gone mad and murdered the townsfolk of that Gallian town. There had been more bodies after that attack but the blood running down the street now was no different.

Humans had a lot of blood to spill.

A body slumped backwards across a crate, a gash across his neck. Blood trickled from the wound and to the ground. Another body lay strewn across the street itself, facing away from him. The wound was easy to notice.

Soren had seen worse.

Soren navigated through the site and wondered if the blood would lead him to Ike. Something deep inside told him that Ike was further away. He followed his sense. The city square was noticeably empty with no one around to ask for information.

The blood lessened the further away he got from the bodies but didn't stop completely. A large puddle of the liquid bloomed at one point on his path and bloody footprints helped to lead him along.

Entering into one of the many back roads, the blood trail suddenly stopped with no sign of Ike. Forcing down his panic, he continued through the road until he was back onto the main street.

The first thing he noticed was two clerics, kneeling next to a body on the floor. His heart twisted for a moment as he drew closer but the person was too slight to be Ike.

Then he saw silver hair.

A red stain across her clothes.

And then Sothe, holding a pale hand.

Soren stopped briefly to consider the scene before walking away at a slightly faster pace than before. The clerics hadn't given up yet. The maiden could still live, but Ike was nowhere to be found.

"Oh, Soren! You're here," Titania appeared from the corner of his eye, not seeming uneasy. Then again, she rarely did. "Where's Mist an-?"

"Is Ike alright?" Soren cut her off, stopping before her. His voice was slightly pitched and shaking and he would have berated himself if Ike's life wasn't in question. "Where is he?"

Titania smile softened. "Don't worry, Soren, he's alright. He is just being seen by the healer."

Soren wrapped his fingers around his forearm and tried to force himself to calm down but the fear only seemed to build. He couldn't be calm until he had seen Ike with his own two eyes. "Where is he being tended?" he asked stiffly.

Titania turned and pointed towards the street end. "Just around the corner there."

Soren headed towards it, not stopping to thank Titania for the direction. Turning around the corner, he spied a pile of crates. Then he spotted blue hair and a green bandana.

Ike seemed rather worse for wear. His hair was damp and stuck to his forehead at odd angles. The man sat on the top of the pile of crates, his leg in the process of being wrapped by the healer. Ike winced as the cleric waved their staff to speed up the process. A wound on his arm had scabbed over. An even larger wound to the shoulder still bled.

A long cut from his left ear to his nose was the most glaring wound and Soren was unsure whether or not it would scar. Despite his relief at seeing the man alive, Soren's stomach still plummeted at the many marks left upon his skin.

Ike didn't notice his approach; too busy listening to the instructions of the healer.

Soren forced his mouth to move. "I-Ike?"

Ike glanced up at him with tired eyes, revealing a large bruise on the side of his neck. Then a smile graced his features and he gestured for the mage to come closer.

"Hayy, Soren," Ike said, almost as an afterthought.

Soren proceeded forward; eyes glancing over every wound once more.

The healer nodded to him as he stopped besides them. "Greetings, your highness," she said. Soren presumed she was a cleric in service to the crown when he considered her accent and demeanour.

Soren glanced at the heal staff in the woman's hand and pursed his lips. "May I continue from here?" The mage pointed to the staff in question.

The healer raised a brow. "If you wish, your highness. As long as it is okay with the patient."

Ike nodded his consent and the healer passed Soren the staff. The item was warm to the touch from use. The healer offered a quick bow before turning the corner and leaving them in peace.

Soren offered no words as he positioned Ike's head so that it faced away from his shoulder before waving the staff. The orb emitted a light blue glow as Ike scrunched his face in pain. The shoulder wound slowly stitched back together until there was only a small mark where the cut had been.

Then Soren placed a hand under Ike's chin and gave the face wound a closer inspection. Waving the staff once more, that wound also slowly closed. Much to Soren's relief, no scar was left behind.

As he worked Ike did not try to attempt to start a conversation. Perhaps he was simply tired or he didn't wish to distract him from his work but the mage was grateful for his silence.

The mage's throat burned and he swallowed constantly in an attempt to prevent more tears. Now that the world had calmed, he could contemplate. Soren did not look Ike in the eye as he worked; scared that if he looked, Ike would know.

Satisfied that the wounds were healed to his standards, Soren placed the heal staff on another nearby crate before glancing down at his feet; unsure of what to do now. Ike watched him curiously for a while; not getting down from his seat to approach him.

Finally, Ike spoke, breaking the peaceful silence. "Is something wrong?" Ike asked.

Soren's lip started to wobble but he bit down on it, drawing some blood onto his tongue. "Nothing you need to worry about, Ike," Soren muttered.

Ike frowned. "We have been over this. If something is wrong, you should talk about it."

"I don't _want_ to talk about it."

Ike raised a brow at his sharpness and Soren knew that he was revealing too much.

Ike crossed his arms across his chest. "Well, it sounds like you should."

Soren breathed in to collect himself and attempted to force a level tone but it sounded more tired than anything else. "Ike, I was just told that you were attacked with no confirmation on your condition. Would that suffice to explain my emotions?"

Ike didn't look convinced and Soren couldn't blame him. He wasn't being particularly convincing. "If that was the only thing wrong, you wouldn't be this upset."

Soren crossed his arms behind his back and stared at the crate Ike was resting upon, unable to formulate a response. Tears in his eyes made it hard to see; blurring everything so that all Soren could see were masses of colour.

"Come up here," Ike said as he patted the space to his side.

The mage forced in another breath as he did what was asked of him without comment. Climbing up the crates, he eventually managed to settle at Ike's side.

Then, slowly, Ike wrapped an arm around Soren's waist; encouraging Soren to rest his head upon his uninjured shoulder. Ike's arm was not the most comfortable place to lie upon – too hard and uneven with muscle – but it was comforting because it was Ike.

A tear ran down his face and then another. A sob escaped his lips and Ike held him closer.

The man started slowly running his fingers through the mage's hair. Ike's finger nicked one of the clasps that kept his hair secured and another sob escaped. Burying his head against the man's chest, Soren's sobs were suddenly unable to be kept back. Ike offered no words or questions as he held Soren close and let him cry.

Ike did not need words to be comforting - his presence was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter was a mega, mega pain to write. I rewrote it several times, once from Almedha's perspective, but I still couldn't get it to meet my standards. I will probably edit it again once I go back over this story once it's complete but this was the best I was able to get it for now.
> 
> Thank you very much for all of those who have stuck around so far. We are slowly inching towards the third (and final) part of this story so I hope I can continue to entertain you all till the end.


	10. Chapter 10

A few days later, the investigation team finally completed its report on the attack in the city square. They believed that the assassins were a trained group known as the 'Bloodied Thorns' who were probably commissioned by someone who had a grudge against Micaiah: either for political reasons or because of her actions in the war. Regardless, they were a skilled group and were likely paid well for their services.

Another investigation team was then sent out to try and locate members of the group who still lived on. Once caught, their fate would be determined by a trial, as it were with every criminal.

Soren would hate the group but he was sick of hating others for his own misfortune; even if they did deserve it.

~~X~~

The days slowly blended into weeks.

Soren wasn't surprised the matter was being brought up. In fact, he was genuinely surprised it took _this_ long. With Micaiah still in a coma, on the brink of life and death for nearly two weeks now, Soren half expected them to have given up on her by now.

He certainly had.

The noble looked just as dissatisfied as Soren felt. "Your highness… given the state of our Lady Micaiah, I beg you to reconsider your abdication until she returns to good health."

Soren noted inwardly that they didn't mention the possibility of her dying. He supposed they couldn't bring themselves to entertain such a possibility.

Soren wanted to scream his objections at the man and take his leave but, instead, he nodded, accepting his fate.

Suddenly, Shinon's words – _'There will always be something that keeps you here'_ – had never felt more true.

Ike pinched his nose and sighed visibly. He was not quite angry, more… withdrawn. The man's eye began to twitch. Ike voiced no objection towards Soren's decision but didn't look like he consented either.

Nobody seemed happy with how things had turned out with the exception of a few nobles who grinned smugly at their counterparts. Soren would have loved to smack them over the head several times with his tome.

But the mage did no such thing. He slid into his chair and bowed his head and damned the Goddess once more.

~~X~~

The moon cast shadows across Ike's face as he tied his bandana across his forehead and slipped his feet into leather boots. The soles were slightly damp and rubbed against his skin but they were the only shoes he carried. The shoes provided by the court were too ornate for him to even consider wearing of his own accord.

Soren stirred. The mage had always been a light sleeper, even though Ike had tried his best not to wake him. Once he'd opened his eyes, Soren raised a brow at him. "Where are you going?" Soren asked, rubbing at his cheek.

"For a walk," Ike said as he picked up his cloak from the chair and swung it over his shoulders. He regretted waking the mage. Soren's sleeping patterns had been very odd recently. Perhaps it was stress, but Soren had been having a much harder time getting up in the morning and falling asleep at night.

Soren sat up and glanced out the window to spy the moon.

"It's late."

"I know. I'm not going far; I'm just going around the grounds." Ike pulled his gloves over his fingers. It was raining heavily and precautions for the cold seemed wise. Securing his iron sword to his waist, Ike glanced back at the mage with a frown. "Don't wait for me; I may be awhile. Try to get some sleep, alright?"

Soren paused before he nodded and lay back down on the bed. Ike slipped through the door.

Boyd raised a brow as he entered the hall, his axe resting upon the floor.

"Where are you off? It's past midnight."

"Can't sleep so I decided to go out for a bit," Ike replied.

"Want some company?"

Ike considered the offer before he shook his head. "No. I still don't trust the guards around here. I don't want to risk another attack, especially given recent events."

Boyd nodded in understanding.

"Alright, then," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. Ike headed out of the hall and towards the gardens. He did not want to go far but he needed space to think. Needed to work things out in his head but he found he could not do that with Soren lying at his side.

Arriving at the gardens, Ike swept his hand across a moss-covered bench and sat upon it. Rain spilled from the sky but the sound was soothing enough to overcome any discomfort he felt. Ike sighed through his mouth and allowed the rain to dampen his hair and run down his neck.

Ike sat there for a long time; the rain at his back and the wind in his hair and spent a while just embracing the peace. The elements brought back memories of the war – of trekking through different countries and different cities – when things were both so complicated yet so simple.

In a way, he missed the simplicity of those times. When the only thing he needed to think about was which direction to face his blade. Yes, there had been nightmares after his father's death, the pressures to succeed... but they had still been simpler times.

"Ike?"

The man looked up to meet the voice. Mist pursed her lips, attempting to seem threatening despite only wearing a silk nightgown. A candle was balanced between her palms – still lit. Ike couldn't guess if Boyd had sent her of she'd found him through chance. "What are you doing out in the rain?" Mist scolded. "It's freezing. Come inside."

"I am fine where I am," Ike said.

Mist arched a brow before walking over, taking a seat next to him. The candle's flame died to the wind and Mist set it aside. The woman started to swing her legs as the rain poured, soaking through her clothes, but she didn't seem to mind.

Ike sighed again. "Mist, you don't need-"

Mist gave him an imploring look and Ike felt his mouth slowly close. "What's wrong, Ike?" Mist asked with little hesitation, rain drops running through her hair and onto her face.

"Nothing."

"That's a lie," Mist pouted and she wasn't wrong. "I can read you like the back of my hand. Jeez, you are so emotionally repressed. No wonder you and Soren are practically married."

Ike glared at her but couldn't think of something to say in either of their defence.

Mist lightly kicked his foot.

"Stop acting like nothing is wrong, for once." Mist rolled her eyes but she did not seem truly annoyed. "Come on! I'm your little sister, not an Inquisitor. I might be able to help."

Ike crossed his arms and stared at the floor for a moment. He didn't like sharing his problems at the best of times, especially not with _Mist._ It was difficult to explain why but the idea of weighing others down with his emotions was something he detested. With Mist, Ike always felt that he needed to be her pillar of strength. His emotions would ruin that façade.

But Mist was older now. She no longer needed him for constant protection.

Ike sighed and rested his elbows on his knees. "I have been feeling angry a lot recently," he admitted.

"Angry?" Mist tilted her head, looking surprised. "About?"

Ike kicked a nearby weed but it sprung back, showering his leg with dirt and water. If he was honest he didn't really know what, specifically, was causing him to feel that way. So instead he said, "This whole situation."

"What about this whole situation?" Mist stuck out her bottom lip in contemplation.

"I don't know…The nobles and their petty games. This country. How Ashnard seems to still be capable of causing problems. The constant threat of attack, even though the war is over…"

Ike wiped the rain drops from his face and glared at the cobbles. "There is nothing that can be done about it for now, but it is infuriating. When I made the decision to leave, I wanted to leave the frivolity. The status. It was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made, leaving the mercenaries behind, but I am not made for life on anyone's pedestal."

"I know," Mist said softly.

Ike did not mention the struggle the first few weeks after he'd left, where he had constantly wavered between regretting his choice and accepting it was the right thing to do. If Soren had not been at his side during that time then Ike might have even returned. Even now, the guilt he felt for leaving his sister was unexplainable.

The man wondered if his sister could ever forgive him for choosing his freedom over his family. Over her. She did not seem upset, nor did they talk any differently from before. Yet, something was different. Maybe it was the understanding that the next time Ike left, it would also be the last.

Ike leaned back on his hands and looked up at the sky, closing his eyes. It felt good to talk. "I just supposed that when we left we would be free. I am not mad at Soren for how things turned out - I'm really not - but I _am_ angry he… he…"

"Is a royal?" Mist supplied.

Ike nodded with reluctance "Yeah. It didn't bother me at first; him being a royal in _itself_ doesn't bother me. Yet, I can't stand the court. Soren can't stand the court. Part of me is mad that his heritage has dragged us back."

Mist shrugged, leaning against a nearby stone ornament. The ornament rocked slightly beneath her weight but was somehow able to support her. "You are frustrated. I should imagine Soren feels the same way, maybe even more so. Just think that all of this is only temporary. Sooner or later, Micaiah will be out of recovery and Soren will be free to go on whatever journey you are planning."

The advice didn't do much to comfort him but Ike knew that very few words could. Like it or not, he and Soren were stuck at court for a while. Ike had to admit he felt slightly lighter for having said something, though.

"Alright," Ike said eventually. "Thanks Mist."

However, the affairs of the court weren't his only concern.

Ike considered telling her about his concerns over Soren specifically; how Soren still hadn't mentioned what had upset him so much when Ike was attacked. How the mage had all but shut down, wallowing in his stress and his pain without breathing a word of it to him. How Soren's sleep had become more and more disrupted ever since he had been forced into a position he did not want.

How Soren had started to have nightmares almost every night and that the mage did not know he knew about them. The mage would sometimes mumble his name in his sleep but his name was not the only one mentioned. Sometimes he whimpered the names of the people who raised him, like the sage and the woman who had sold him. Other times, he cried out his parent's names. Ike would hold him close when he was awoken by Soren's shaking and hysterical mumbling and fiend sleep when Soren startled awake.

Soren would hate it if he knew that Ike was aware of his night terrors.

Yet, to reveal all that to his sister felt like an invasion of Soren's business and so he kept his mouth shut. Ike forced a smile to his lips and Mist smiled too, unable to see that it was false. Maybe she couldn't read him as well as she thought she could. Mist reached over and slapped his arm playfully. "That's the look I like to see. Frowns don't suit you. Your face will get stuck into a permanent scowl if you keep that up."

"I suppose so. Thanks, Mist."

"Don't worry about it. Now that has been sorted out…" Mist glanced down at her hands, seeming oddly anxious. Ike's eyebrows furrowed at her. Mist was a ball of emotion at the best of times but it was rare for her mood to fall so quickly. "There… is something else I wanted to talk to you about…"

"Yeah?"

"I haven't told anyone, yet… well, except for Boyd and Rhys. It all started a few months back. I started to feel really ill and I went to Rhys for his advice and he said wait a few days and come back. I waited a bit and then he said—"

"Mist. Short version," Ike cut her off blandly.

Mist scowled. "Fine, fine… Short version is, Ike…" Mist reached over and took his hands into her own and held them in her lap. The moisture on her nightgown chilled his wrists. Mist took a breath before she continued and Ike gave her time to collect her thoughts. "The short version is that… In a few months time… you will have another family member. Me and Boyd are expecting. You are going to be an uncle."

Ike blinked and Mist stared at him, now looking extremely unsure. Her hands gripped his more fiercely. It took a second for him to realise what the words meant. It took an even longer moment to comprehend the fact. Even though she was twenty now, Mist still seemed so young and innocent. Ike supposed she had grown up in all the time he had spent not looking.

Slowly a smile came to him, a genuine smile, and Mist visibly relaxed. "Then I should say congratulations to you and Boyd," Ike said with sincerity.

"Thank you," she grinned, the tension fading from her fingers. "But that is not all… I want to name the baby after mother and father. Elena if it's a girl, Greil if it's a boy. I discussed it with Boyd and he thought it was a good idea. I thought it was a good way to… continue their memory."

Ike nodded but couldn't formulate the words to express his feelings. Instead, he directed the conversation in another direction. "When are you due?"

"Four months."

Ike raised a brow. "That isn't long."

Mist laughed nervously. "I know. I'm nervous, but it will be okay. I know me and Boyd… we will be alright." Mist pushed herself up from the bench. Now that he was looking for it he could see the bump of her stomach through the silk.

"Come on then," she smiled, pulling the material away from her skin. "I don't think freezing to death would be a good way to go."

"No," Ike nodded, also standing. "It really wouldn't."

~~X~~

Soren was asleep when Ike returned; dripping onto the carpet and with puddles in his boots. Navigating with only the moonlight, Ike removed his soaked clothing and dressed into a spare undershirt before hopping into bed beside the mage.

By some miracle, Soren did not stir as the bed dipped and Ike slid beneath the blanket. The bed was slightly warm from the mage's body heat and the warmth was a welcome relief for Ike's cold limbs. Hoping his hair wouldn't make the pillows damp, Ike breathed in and absorbed the heat into his bones.

It was then that Soren groaned and slowly blinked awake, his hair a messy splay across the pillows. "I-Ike?" he mumbled, blinking lethargically. His eyes glimmered in the moonlight. "You just coming back?"

"Yeah," Ike nodded, not lifting his head from the pillow. "Did I wake you?"

"Yes," Soren said. "But it's alright."

Ike shifted to get more comfortable and his hand brushed Soren's beneath the bed. Soren withdrew his fingers.

"Your hands are freezing," Soren mused as he slowly reached over to take the hand again. Soren always had cold hands but even his felt warm now. He gripped Ike's hand between his own and rubbed his hands across them to try and create heat.

Ike sighed in content as the numbness in his fingers slowly drifted away. "Thanks," he said as Soren dropped his hand and began with the other. "What would I be without you?"

"You would be a man with very cold hands, apparently. I'm not rubbing your feet though."

"Fair enough."

Soren dropped Ike's other hand to the bed and moved to rest his head on his hands. He looked like he was about to say goodnight when Ike cut in. "Soren?"

"Yes?"

Ike spread his arms wide to make space for Soren between them. "Come here."

Soren looked at him warily and Ike wasn't surprised. Physical affection was rare for Ike unless if he was trying to be comforting. He had his moments, but Ike was not given to kisses on cheeks as he left the room or hugs from behind. Soren could appreciate that. The mage was not given to outward expressions of love either.

Still, Soren shifted forward and settled with his forehead against Ike's chest. He seemed confused but was otherwise relaxed. The mage's body felt tiny in Ike's arms but he fit comfortably beneath his chin.

"Soren," Ike said as he allowed his eyes to slowly drift closed. "When you are ready to talk about what's bothering you, I'm here for you. Don't forget that, alright?"

The man stiffened in his grip before he nodded, his body shaking as he tried to contain his emotions.

"Alright," Soren whispered against Ike's chest, a tear falling onto his shirt. "Alright…"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this chapter to be a bit calmer compared to recent chapters. Due to that, not a lot happens beyond dialogue. However, that does not mean the excitement is over. After all, a few plotlines in this story still have a few more threads to them...
> 
> Yet again, I thank all of those who have managed to read up to this point and I hope the trip to this point has been worth your time :P


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another blood warning for this one. Please proceed with care.

"Prince Soren, could you please examine these scrolls."

"What are they?"

"Our budget for reconstruction. As you are no doubt well aware," a glare in his direction, "Daein has recently been involved in many wars, one after the other. Our reconstruction budget has been stretched as much as possible to meet the costs. However, much of what got repaired during Begnion's occupation was later destroyed by the later two conflicts. We have little choice but to be pickier in what we opt to rebuild."

"Have you considered raising taxes?" Soren asked, scanning over the page. Judging from the information presented, the budget they possessed would barely cover the cost of repairs for a few towns – never mind multiple cities.

The man, the political advisor for Daein, raised a brow. "Your highness, the Maiden wanted to avoid raising taxes if possible. The people are recovering from war. To ask them to pay more in taxes could not only cause riots, but run what few remain in their homes out."

"Not if the raise isn't excessive," Soren said as he pushed the page back towards the man. "Your budget is far too small. The people will riot more if their daily lives continue to be interrupted than if they have to pay a little more in tax for a while."

"With all due respect—"

"If the raise upsets people so much, Micaiah will no doubt reverse the decision when she takes the crown." Soren leaned back in his chair; not having the energy for a debate but unable to dismiss the matter and let him have his way. "Sometimes decisions which upset the citizenry are necessary, especially following a war. The common people won't be happy but unless if you want Daein to remain as it is, this is a move which has become vital."

The man sighed as he picked up the scrolls from the table and slotted them under his arm. "…Very well. The council will meet to discuss the matter further."

"Anything else which requires attention?" Soren asked but he was already preparing to leave, flattening the skirts of his robes.

"Not for now, your highness. If I have your leave, I would excuse myself."

Soren nodded and the man walked out the door.

As 'temporary ruler' Soren was forced to oversee matters of the crown. Originally it was Micaiah who had occupied the position before she was attacked. The person in the position had as much power as a regular king/queen, except they had to defer to a council before any decision could be made.

Soren kicked the chair back under the desk as he stood. If he was honest, determining what needed to be rebuilt and working out costs for various actions was not wholly dreadful. It was one of the few aspects of the royal lifestyle that he didn't utterly despise. It reminded Soren of his work in the wars where he was one of very few people capable of reading modern tongue as well as having capabilities in mathematics.

"Do you think they still hate us because of the war?" Ike asked, who had been watching the affairs from the corner of the room. "The man seemed a bit… antagonistic, towards us."

"We were their enemy for many years," Soren replied, walking over to join him. "Forgetting that is going to take a while. Can you truly say you love Daein now, after all the bad the people of this country have done?"

Ike crossed his arms as they moved towards the doors. "I don't love Daein, no, but I don't hate the Daein people either. I don't hate Micaiah for fighting for this country nor do I hate you because you are Ashnard's son. If I dislike a person, it's not going to be because of what side of the field they were on."

Soren smiled weakly as he pushed open the doors and exited into the hall. "That attitude is what makes so many people like you, Ike."

"I just wish more people shared that mentality."

The pair walked through the halls with the intention of heading back to their quarters. After addressing the current affairs of state, Soren was often left to do whatever he chose to do with his time. Even though he had only been in the position for two weeks, he was already finding himself falling into a routine.

"Oh, by the way, there is something I ought to tell you. I can't imagine Mist would mind much…" Ike began.

Soren looked him over quizzically. "What is it?"

"I have decided to take Mist and Boyd off guard duty. Mist is expecting."

Soren quickly drew to a stop, blinked, and turned back to face him. "Mist is with child?" he asked, somewhat surprised. She certainly hadn't behaved as if she was pregnant – she was as energetic as she always was.

"Yeah. I don't know what she was thinking; agreeing to guard you when she was expecting… if she had been hurt the child could have been killed. Regardless, I don't want her risking it anymore."

Soren nodded as they slowly began to walk again. "Very well."

~~X~~

Based on the medical diagnosis, Micaiah had fallen into a coma due to a combination of severe blood-loss and shock. When she had been hit, there had been no clerics to administer emergency care and none of those attacked had thought to bring a vulnerary. She had been left bleeding for so long that although the itself wound was not too serious, it had dealt a massive toll. To further worsen their situation, the clerics couldn't seem to find a match for a blood transfusion. This didn't surprise him overmuch (considering her blood was an abnormal case) though he was still soured by the fact.

Ultimately, it had been gathered that if Micaiah had been healed sooner, she would probably not be in her current state. That was perhaps the bitterest pill to swallow and he could imagine Sothe was kicking himself for being so ill prepared. However, all of this knowledge came second-hand either through Ike (who had visited her twice) or through the medical reports the nobles had spilled over during their meetings. So, he couldn't made definitive conclusions.

Despite Ike's persistent asking ("It's a sign of good will!" Ike had said), Soren hadn't been to visit the Maiden ("I have no business there," Soren had answered) However, in truth, he was somewhat afraid to go. Soren couldn't get the idea out of his head that if he made contact, Micaiah would think it'd be alright to die on her hospital bed. It was a ridiculous idea but the possibility kept him away regardless.

Soren cared no more for the woman than he did a stray piece of grass but, for now, he wanted her to live more than anything. Even though he had given up on her return in his heart, he still prayed.

As another week passed and no signs of improvement were made, Soren dismissed his hope for her life as a pathetic fantasy.

~~X~~

The mage was woken up by a sharp shove to the shoulder.

Soren jolted awake, almost falling out of the bed but was quickly pulled back in. He was shaking and sweat was poured over his skin but that wasn't what drew his attention. What caught his eye was his hand – soaked in red, partially mauled and the taste of iron on his tongue which revealed all he needed to know. Even in the dim light he could see the damage was bad.

Ike quickly turned towards the table and relit the candle. The sudden brightness stung Soren's eyes and he blinked a few times to help them adjust. Facing him again, Ike took his arm and examined it.

"You were constantly moving in your sleep and woke me," Ike explained as he stared at his arm. Now able to properly see it, Soren noted the numerous bite marks which littered the back of his palm. Blood dripped down his fingers and stained the sheets as well as his nails. "You are going to need a healer."

"I'm fine. A vulnerary will do-"

"Don't even try to brush this off, Soren." Ike almost growled, stunning the mage into silence. "This is serious. You did this to your hand _in your sleep_. I'm going to call Rhys, just sit here."

"I don't think that is necessary. I am more than capable of—"

"The point isn't that it's healable," Ike stated bluntly as he headed for the door. "The point is that you did it in the first place."

Leaving the room, Ike returned a few minutes later with a visibly tired Rhys who hadn't even changed out of his sleeping clothes. The priest visibly winced as he examined Soren's hand, becoming more alert almost instantly.

"Ike said you did this in your sleep?" Rhys asked, looking somewhat horrified. Soren didn't know if it was because of the notion or all the blood. Despite being a healer, Rhys was one of the worst people Soren had ever met when it came to blood.

Rhys was one of the members of the mercenaries who Soren held no overwhelming opinion for, much like Rolf. Rhys was good at what he did and was nice enough – maybe a little too optimistic and naïve for his own good but he wasn't unpleasant in any way.

Despite that, Soren still hated that Rhys was looking upon his moment of weakness.

Soren even hated that Ike was seeing his weakness, his inability to cope.

"Besides this incident, how has your sleep been recently?" Rhys asked as he waved his staff over the wounds.

Soren closed his eyes and looked away. "Not the best."

"Any nightmares?"

When Soren did not answer immediately, Rhys smiled up at the mage in an almost comforting gesture. "Don't be ashamed; it's alright to admit it. I won't tell anyone."

"… Then, yes," Soren said, feeling tired.

Rhys nodded as the wounds on Soren's hand gradually disappeared; leaving no sign they had even been there. The priest frowned at the scars on his palms which still remained from the last time he had healed the mage, but voiced no comment.

"You are under a lot of stress. Sometimes, the body acts out when under extreme pressure in ways such as this. I know this whole experience hasn't been the kindest for you…" Rhys drifted off and Soren knotted his fingers together.

That was an understatement. A horribly cruel understatement.

Rhys continued, "I would recommend talking about your troubles with someone. You'd be surprised how much just doing that helps. Also, try to exercise some more. I don't think you have properly left this keep since you got here. The change of environment might help."

Soren considered objecting and mentioning how Ike had been attacked the one and only time he had left the keep. How voicing his troubles was pointless as no matter what he talked about, it couldn't change that he was here, in Daein, son of the Mad King Ashnard in the company of nobles he hated and a mother who he couldn't face.

No matter what Soren said or did he was hated and punished for his actions and he was growing tired. He wanted to leave but couldn't for reasons he did not even know anymore.

The ambassador had told him, back when he had been dragged into this mess, that there was a risk of him becoming a target for bandits who would try to sell him for ransom unless if he returned.

But here, Soren was still a target – a target for nobles who either wanted him gone or to use him for power. A target for assassins who had not only almost killed him but Ike also. A target for a mother who wanted his forgiveness more than anything yet he couldn't grant it to her no matter how she craved it.

Soren felt Almedha didn't deserve his forgiveness but he couldn't help wondering if he was wrong. Even if she had the best reason in the world for abandoning him (from what little he'd heard surrounding the circumstances, it certainly seemed like it would be a good reason) the fact remained that she had created a Branded. The way she had had abandoned her child was still fact.

Even if her reasons were the best in the world, did that justify what he went through? Was he being overly harsh on her?

Maybe he was finally cracking. Maybe Soren's nightmares were just the beginning; him mauling his hand the natural progression. Soren did not want to consider what could be next.

Soren felt trapped beneath a crown he had never known or wanted and was unable to take it off. Some people had tried to lessen the weight, like Ike, but they had only made it feel even heavier.

Soren just wanted it all to… go away. He was drowning and needed air before he sank.

The mage did not notice when Rhys left but was snapped out of his thoughts by a nudge to the shoulder. Now that he was paying attention, Soren could see he was shaking.

"Soren…" Ike sounded disappointed, frustrated, afraid. A combination of many feelings. "Please tell me you are ready to talk now. For my well-being if not your own."

"I-Ike…" Soren mumbled, sounding so weak and frail and pathetic to his ears. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. You managed to talk to me about being Branded. You were able to admit that you were Ashnard's son. You have talked to me about many things – you can talk about one more."

Soren slowly breathed in through the mouth, his breath shaky and hitched. He hated that he wanted to cry. He was no longer a child. He shouldn't be crying because of things like this.

Soren opened his mouth to speak, to admit to his woes, but no words would come out. He would open his mouth and his voice wouldn't reach his lips, instead making a sound like a quiet whine.

"It's… I…. I feel so…" 

"'Feel so,' what, Soren?"

"…Helpless…" The words pained him to say but now that they were out, Soren could not stop their flow. "About this situation... I… I have no control over what happens and I hate it. I… before you got hurt… Almedha, she…"

That was all he could muster the strength to say before tears flooded down his cheeks. Since when had he become so emotionally weak? So unable to keep himself together? All he had done since he'd arrived at court was cry, it seemed.

Had the court broken him so?

Ike did not immediately move in to comfort him, instead sitting back in his chair. If the man comforted the mage the admissions would stop. Soren could clam up so quickly. "You talked with Almedha?"

Soren tried to bolster his resolve. "Yes… we… it was a mistake. Before I saw her I could forget that she was even here… but I saw her and now I can't get her out of my head. She is always there. Always in the back of my mind and the thought of her reminds me of the laguz and the woman and the sage."

Ike considered him with a grim expression and Soren placed his head in his hands. "Gods, this is nonsense."

Ike sighed lightly, pulling the mage's hands away from his face and holding his wrists. Soren tried to pull away but he eventually relaxed within the grip. "You really are no good when it comes to your emotions. This is not nonsense – this would be a stressful situation for a lot of people."

"Sympathy means nothing," Soren replied bitterly. "Just leave me alone… I dragged us into this mess so any stress experienced is mine to bare."

"How did you drag us into this?"

"I was _born._ We are here because of my blood."

"You can't help that you were born to a royal."

Soren's hands clenched into fists at the words, the knuckles paling from the strain, and he bowed his head. "And that is the biggest problem of all. I can't help that I was born royal. I have to grin and bare it even despite how much I hate it and how everything seems to hate me in return."

"Soren… this is only temporary. When Micaiah recovers—"

"Honestly, Ike," Soren looked him dead in the eye – scarlet meeting blue – and a tear threatened to spill. "I don't think she is going to. And if that happens, I will be king. What I want would mean nothing in the wake of losing her."

"You won't have to do anything you don't want to," Ike said stiffly. "If you want to leave we'll leave."

"I am already doing things I don't want to, Ike, and yet I'm still here. I have wanted to leave ever since we first arrived. I have tried to abdicate but they are delaying it. If we just take-off, what was the point in all this in the first place? To gain enemies?"

Shinon's words ' _There will always be something that keeps you here'_ echoed in his mind and he closed his eyes, damning the fact that they were becoming truer by the day.

"No, Ike. I... will have to stay. It is your fate that remains in question."

"Soren-" Ike began but Soren raised cut him off.

"I will not force you to remain with me if it comes to that. You... are not built for this."

Ike fell silent and so did he. The moment was stagnant but Soren found he had little care for the tension in the air - he simply felt... withdrawn. Reaching for the candle he glanced up at Ike's face before he quickly blew out the flame and lay back down. Ike remained sat up, frozen. 

That look of collapsing hope did not suit the man, at all. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I re-read over this while half asleep so sorry for any errors. This chapter was simply a struggle all the way through but I got there in the end :P I hope you enjoyed this regardless, though.


	12. Chapter 12

_The burning sensation was invading her lungs and she was drowning, sinking, falling. Rain pattered against the castle walls, some dripping onto her head from the window, but she barely noticed amidst the shaking and the sweat and the horror._

_The baby, pale like him, was barely bigger than her palm. The child didn't cry nor did he move._

_He just… lay very still._

_Almedha's fingers ran across the boy's face, fingers lingering on the mark engraved into his forehead. The cloth which covered the child irritated her arms but the feeling was a small inconvenience._

_Branded._

_For many moments, Almedha feared what she had created. A Branded child. The most stigmatised race in Tellius; she had created one with her own flesh and blood with her laguz heritage as an exchange._

_The tear that spilled from her eye marked the first time she had cried in many, many years. The first crack in her strong visage._

_And yet, the boy remained frozen. Cold._

_He was so pale it wasn't hard to see why the clerics had thought him stillborn at first, but Almedha knew better. Her son held blood from two of the strongest bloodlines in existence. He would survive. Even with his small stature and frail bones, he had survived his winter birth and he would continue to survive until maturity._

_The boy's breath rattled in his chest. The baby finally shifted, wrinkling its tiny nose to signal what was about to come._

_Almedha held the boy close as he finally let out a sharp wail._

~~X~~

Almedha awoke blearily from her dream, a frown etched into her features - a common expression of hers nowadays. Sunlight bled into her quarters (even through the closed curtains) making the darkness of her room seem almost grey.

Such reflections had been common recently; images of the past flittering past in flashes so real she could swear she was living within them again.

Her arm burned and her wrist ached. She lifted her head from her palm and glared down at the wooden desk like it had wronged her.

She had not slept in awhile before this. She hadn't left the room since the meeting with the boy. Almedha couldn't bring herself to call him her son – that honour was not hers anymore.

A maid knocked and entered, placing a tray of food on the desk without waiting for permission. Almedha's eyes remained fixed to the wooden surface. The tray was angled in such a way to avoid the documents spread across it. Almedha sent it a withering look.

"Do you require anything else, Lady Almedha?" the maid asked.

"No."

The maid nodded and swept out the door, unfazed.

Almedha picked up a cup from the tray and sipped at its contents. It burned the inside of her mouth, leaving the insides of her cheeks sore.

She drank again, enjoying the feeling.

It was a feeling she deserved.

~~X~~

The announcement of Queen Elincia and Empress Sanaki's imminent arrival had been a surprise but was not all that odd when Soren thought about it.

It was courteous for them to visit their ally, after all, even though Elincia's relationship with Micaiah was sparing at best. Sanaki made more sense. Not only was her country Daein's suzerain state but she was related to the girl in question.

Really, it was more surprising how long it had taken.

It took about a week for Elincia to journey from Melior to Nevassa. She arrived tressed in blue cloth; simplistic and understated. Atop Geoffrey's chestnut mare she looked as beautiful and elegant as ever. Her face had aged slightly, especially around the eyes and lips, but that was to be expected. Running a country was stressful, as Soren was quickly finding out.

"Prince Soren," she greeted, inclining slightly at the waist. "What a shame to meet again after so long under such circumstances."

"Indeed, Queen Elincia." Soren nodded back to avoid being rude but they both knew it was only that.

Soren's opinion of Elincia had improved slightly since the Mad King's war.

While she was still far too idealistic for his taste, Elincia's ignorance had waned and so he found her much more tolerable than when she was a young, foolish girl who had done little more than spout nonsense.

However, they were still far from friends. Soren's role in helping her regain Crimea had put her in his debt but they were nothing more than acquaintances. She could withstand the worst of his sharp tongue, at least.

"How have you and sir Ike been? It has been some years since we talked last."

"We have been fine."

"Are you sure?" Elincia began to frown. "I was… worried about how well you have been coping. Running a country is difficult, especially with no experience. I know that more than anyone else."

"We have been fine, Queen Elincia," Soren repeated, fiercer now.

She seemed to forget that it was Soren who had been among her main critics during the Mad King's war. Who had told her of the ways the world worked; the harsh truths behind seemingly noble gestures and conquered countries.

Elincia hesitated before she nodded, her expression becoming drawn. "Very well. If you ever want someone to confide in, though, I extend myself to you."

"Your gesture is appreciated, Queen Elincia."

It wasn't but Soren had learnt not to say such things out load.

~~X~~

Soren's admissions had brought them closer, in a way, but Ike had never felt so distant.

Ike was always so sure of himself; of what he wanted to do, to say. However, his interests had mingled in such a way that he was left conflicted.

He wanted to remain at Soren's side – besides the boy who had always made sure that he was on hand – but Soren had a point. The court was something he would never get used to. He didn't want to get used to it. The insincerity, the power plays.

If push came to shove, Ike didn't know which would be the bigger sacrifice. To suffer in court for life or to take his leave of the mage.

Ike shook his head, clearing the thoughts from his mind. Contemplation never seemed to help him much and stewing was unproductive. Useless.

Ike sheathed his sword and decided to look around the keep for potential attackers, a common activity for him nowadays. It was a grim task but if it stopped him from standing idle then he would take it.

These ventures, if nothing else, helped him to map the keep inside his head. The echoes of his boots across stone was now a familiar sound; perhaps more familiar than the voice of the tactician. The pair had barely spoken to each other outside of their morning and evening small talk and it both irritated and bothered him.

"Sir Ike?" a voice broke the steady rhythm of his footsteps, jarring Ike from his thoughts.

Ike turned, spotting emerald hair and a flowing gown standing at the corner of the hall. "Queen Elincia," Ike nodded, releasing the hilt of his sword. "Did you just arrive?"

Elincia's emerald hair was kept loose and it spilled across her shoulders like grass down a hill. The style was similar to the one she'd worn when Ike had met her but it looked so different on her now. Then again, she simply looked different in general. She was nearly twenty-five, after all.

"Yes, my lord Ike. Geoffrey and I have just returned from the medical ward to send our well-wishes to the Lady Micaiah."

"No Lucia and Bastian?" Ike raised a brow.

Elincia smiled with something resembling fondness. Ike supposed she missed them. It was rare not to see her flanked by all her retainers. "They are in Crimea, taking care of things while I'm gone."

"I see. How long do you plan to visit for?"

The smile vanished. "I can't leave Crimea for too long. A week at most, I'm afraid."

"That's a shame."

Elincia hummed in agreement, eyes cast down to the floor. Ike couldn't help but think back to the days when the air wasn't so stiff; when they weren't so bound by their difference in station. When he'd met her, she'd been much easier to talk to. Had Elincia recognised her position and learned to act accordingly? Or maybe it was Ike who had changed – who had come to recognise the position she held.

Maybe it was both.

Ike disliked it either way.

"How's Geoffrey?" Ike found himself asking, pushing back into the present.

Elincia brightened, eyes raised again. "He is well. We are soon to be wed. This fall, in fact. Your mercenaries will be invited, of course, as honoured guests."

"We do not need honouring but thanks anyway. I'm sure the mercenaries will be happy to go."

"Will you be going?"

Ike hesitated and considered how to put ' _Not if I can help it,'_ in a way which didn't sound as if he had a problem with her.

Elincia smiled sympathetically. Ike wondered if she could read minds after so much time spent reading faces in court. Soren, who had always been good at that, was improving at an amazing rate even in such a short time. "Don't worry, Sir Ike. I know how you are. I suppose after all this had ended, you will be quick to return to your journey."

Ike frowned and Elincia's smile deepened. Her eyes lingered for a moment, looking distant. Ike didn't know what had caught her attention and he considered asking but she had rolled back her shoulders before he could.

"Anyway, I must leave you now to rest. The journey has been quite long."

"Alright. I will see you later then, Elincia."

"Indeed you shall, sir Ike."

Elincia nodded and then she turned on her heels, retreating down the halls; her gown spilling across the stone like water.

Ike couldn't help wondering if he and Soren would become so distant if he were crowned.

Ike's boots echoed around the halls as he walked to the medical ward to check that Micaiah wasn't dead in her bed. That freedom was still a possibility.

~~X~~

"Prince Soren, we have located members of the 'Bloodied Thorns.' However, they must have caught wind of our discovery. They have made their location public knowledge and are working to raise a riot."

"We may very well have a civil war on our hands, your highness."

Soren glanced over the report with a critical eye, taking in the details. "This says they are within Marado?"

"That is correct, sir," another soldier nodded. "We have requested assistance from Lady Fiona but her soldiers are struggling to keep them contained. They have gained vast support recently."

"What are their intentions?"

"We believe them to be republicans, your highness. The constant switching of royals has frustrated the people. With King Ashnard and King Pelleas leading the country into war, Lady Micaiah gravely injured and you being son of the Mad King, it is said that the group wish for an elimination of the royal house."

"So they are out for my head?" Soren muttered. Ike, who leaned on the wall behind him as usual, had a scowl practically imbedded into his face.

It was truly unbelievable. Part of Soren strongly considered abandoning the country; leaving the group to take what they wished of royal blood. It would be cowardly and immoral, but it was a tempting prospect. Soren had come to Daein to avoid people wishing for his head to roll down cobblestone streets or sell his life for coin.

"The group is also acting without a contractor – this much we know now. Thus, the one who orchestrated the attack in the city centre was likely the leader of the group."

"Michael Darbok," Soren read from the report.

The period when a country was rebuilt after war was always a tense time. Add to that the lack of stability under the crown and it was no wonder the people were becoming agitated. In hindsight, it was obvious that some loud voices would generate a rebellion; it had happened in Crimea and Daein was no less immune to anger.

However, Soren would not make the same mistakes as Elincia had done. He would not allow this to spiral out of control by taking little action.

"A party will head to Marado to apprehend the rebel leader. Darbok is to be detained but not murdered if it can be helped."

"Will you be leading this group?" a soldier asked, removing a quill and inkwell from his pockets. He flattened a piece of parchment across the desk.

"Yes," Soren said.

That caught Ike's attention. The man raised his brows, expression skeptical. Several eyes were drawn towards him as he spoke. "Is that a good idea? They are after your life. You should stay as far as possible from battle."

"This battle must be ended quickly," Soren said dismissively. "If the group fails, the rebellion's force grows. Better to strike them when they are still gathering support and a strike will have a better chance at success if I'm there."

"And if you die?"

"Then Daein better hope that Micaiah recovers quickly."

Ideally, that would have been the end of it. However, even with the tension that ate at them recently, Ike never responded well when he was dismissive of anyone's life especially his own.

"Soren, there is no point in you throwing your life away over something like this. The group should be enough."

"'Should be' is not enough security. This is the course of action with the best chances given the circumstances."

In the back of his mind, Soren argued that Ike had no power to hold over him. If Soren insisted he go then Ike really could do nothing but agree, same as when it was he who was in charge and Soren who took orders. However, this was _Ike_ and his intentions were pure. Even if they were delivered through a blunt tongue and with arguments that Soren disagreed with.

Ike scowl was set into his features. For a moment, Soren thought that he'd won. Then: "Fine. You know more about strategy than I do. But at least allow the mercenaries to go with you; it will be safer."

Soren bowed his head in defeat. "Very well."

~~X~~

The rain poured when they set out, slowing travel and leaving everyone in Soren's general vicinity depressed and whiny, much to Soren's chagrin. The rain soaked through their gear, sticking Soren's robes to his chest and his hair to his skin. The rain continued all day, only stopping in short bursts before renewing with new intensity. Soren had to remind himself how ironic this situation was. The mage wanted nothing more than to get rid of the crown and now here he was fighting to keep it? In dreadful weather and with a party to support his effort?

Soren tightened the reins between his fingers, nudging his mare on with his heels. She tossed her head before she sped up, breaking into a swift canter. Soren buried his hands into her damp mane, suddenly aware of his lack of experience with horses.

Ike wasn't looking much better. He struggled with keeping to the rhythm of his horse's trot, constantly getting thrown around in the saddle like a rag doll. Boyd laughed and slapped his shoulder before promptly keeling over and dropping into the mud. Rolf was in hysterics. Soren was not in the mood to join in.

"How long will it take us to arrive in Marado?" Ike asked after awhile. He pulled back on the reins and the horse gradually drew into a walk. His headband sagged across his eyebrows from the water weight.

"A few hours," Soren said, slowing with him. "If they surrender then we could be back in Nevassa by tomorrow morning."

"You don't sound too optimistic about that."

"All these soldiers don't really help with optimism. They are going to see us and know we have come to fight. They are also raising a public rebellion. I see no reason to hope for a peaceful resolution."

Ike cast his eye across the soldiers and frowned, only offering a small hum for a response. Silence fell between them and Soren thought the conversation was over. Then: "Can't see how meeting with an assassin's band could go wrong," Ike said blandly.

Soren smiled despite himself.

The hours passed slowly, silence occupying most of Soren's space. Ike eventually moved on to talk with some of his fellow mercenaries, leaving Soren to contemplate what was about to meet them alone.

~~X~~

Marado was silent.

Streets empty, weapons gone. Some houses still had fires burning in their heaths; signs that their owners were not long gone. Maybe the occupants were evacuated, maybe they fled, maybe they were rebels in themselves. The scouts had found no sign of ambush and had returned unscathed. Yet, this felt wrong. Soren freed his tome from his belt, watching the bushes and the rooftops for strands of hair or a stray limb.

The only sound came from horse hooves and unsteady breathing.

Suddenly, Rolf nocked his bow and lifted it; shooting an arrow towards one of the chimneys. There was a cry and then a body fell, arrow dug into his hand. They had waited too long.

Several dozen men emerged from within houses and around chimneys, iron weapons drawn. Some donned the tell-tale cloaks of the Thorns, which shrouded their faces in shadow, while others were tressed in nothing more than simple cloth. There was no time for negotiation.

Soren opened his tome and let his spells flow.

~~X~~

The darkness was clearing and she could suddenly breathe, before it was all taken away again.

Flashes. Colourful flashes of brown, black, red. Mostly red – or maybe that was what stuck with her the most. She saw a room masked in smoke, green hair spilled across the floors. An angered man. No, angered _men_. Then there was a pregnant woman, with some of the brightest eyes she had ever witnessed, who lay frozen upon the floor. A veiled head which reminded her of mourning and it cried like it was grieving. Everything screamed with buried emotion.

She felt emotions, she felt the horror. The grief, the fear. Red-eyes, green light. 

The emotions crushed, twisted, stabbed. Burned. Micaiah was screaming before she even got the chance to wake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you were all thinking I had given up on this fic! Surprise!
> 
> Sorry for the almost three month wait, but there is a reason. My uni year started so my writing was already slow. Then, just when my chapter was almost done, my computer broke - leading to me losing not only the chapter but my chapter plans. I was pretty irritated but I knew if I left writing this any longer that I wouldn't come back to it. Hopefully this was worth the wait!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd recommend those who are reading along to go back and refresh themselves on Micaiah's prophecy :P The start of this chapter goes on immediately from that.
> 
> Warnings: Blood and Violence. Beware.

_Flashes of colour burned Micaiah's eyes, twisting and hazing the world from sight. The images flickered in her vision, like low candles, and she was overwhelmed by the emotion within._

_The memory of her earlier vision lingered but the events foretold were gone, replaced by new events. New prophecies._

_Was she screaming? She felt like she was screaming. Was she awake, or was this still a dream?_

"Micaiah?"

 _A deep voice broke into the blur, pitched slightly with something almost… hopeful to its tone._ _She imagined green hair but fresh visions spread across her mind's canvas and her attention was soon snapped away._

_A burning castle. A blur. A mess of dark robes with blood spilled beneath them. Another. A balcony, with fresh roses across its bannister and the scents of spring. It was hard to grasp anything more than an idea, a faint outline of a scene before her attention was diverted again, whipping her mind faster than she could think._

"Micaiah? You have to wake up!"

_The deep voice cut though again sounding reasonably more shaken. Her vision stabilised. She saw a velvet carpet and stone walls with paintings knocked into them. For some reason, she felt compelled to reach out and touch one; a painting of a large man with blue hair and wicked eyes._

_Then, she saw him; the source of the voice, the one who was attempting to free her from this. Sothe. His lips were spread into a wide smile as she turned to watch him. It took a moment before she gathered that this couldn't be right, that he couldn't be smiling with his voice shaking like that._

_With his hand latched onto hers like that._

_Then it clicked that this must still be the imagery, that Sothe was a part of this nightmare._

"Is this a vision?"

_Sothe offered her a hand, tension eased from his shoulders. She imagined herself smiling too, although she could only see his lips._

"Micaiah!"

_Suddenly, his expression dropped. She saw herself call his name, horror embedded into her chest. Sothe fell forward, slumping against her body. His skin was damp and Micaiah's panic rose._

_"Sothe? Please no! No, don't do this!" Her voice was like an echo, like a thought._

_Sothe didn't move. She buckled against his weight and Sothe fell with her, eyes finding a morbid fascination with the cloth which concealed her skin. She wanted to reach out. To feel the warmth of his cheek, to fight everything telling her that he was gone. He couldn't be gone. This was Sothe._

**_'This is a dream, this is just a dream. This isn't real, couldn't be real!'_ **

_Steel crossed her eyeline but she was more concerned with the boy who remained unmoving against her. Suddenly, Sothe was not the only one who was coloured red. The pain sliced through every overwhelming emotion, every sensation._

_As a final act of will, Micaiah reached with stained fingers; to protect herself, to protect Sothe, to do something. The steel hurled toward her and she closed her eyes, accepting her fate-_

"MICAIAH, WAKE UP!"

Micaiah bolted upright, the lingering images blurring out of focus. She heard her own shuddering breath before she registered the bed, the clerics and eventually Sothe; who all watched her like they expected her to crack.

The whisperer recovered quickly, eyes wide with concern. "Micaiah, are you alright?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she counted breaths.

One.

Two.

Three.

When that did nothing to ease her nerves, she counted the rise and falls of Sothe's chest.

One.

Two.

Three…

The glazing of her eyes made watching difficult and she soon lost count. She sunk her teeth into her lip to stop herself sobbing. This was not the first time that a vision had made her terrified but it was the first time that Sothe was the victim of its cruel fate.

Her visions were never wrong. Was Sothe doomed to die? Was she deigned to fall with him, even though the war was long over?

Another part of her mind questioned whether it was anything more than a lucid dream. The uncertainty made her nauseous, her frail hope for Sothe's safety turning her pale.

Something warm tightened its grip on her hand but it gave her little comfort. She clung back anyway because at least it was something.

Sothe watched her like he was waiting for an answer. Micaiah counted breaths again.

"Micaiah, what was that?" he asked slowly, like she might not understand otherwise. "You have been unconscious for a long time. Did you forsee something?"

Micaiah swallowed hard. "I don't know, Sothe… I don't…" She sniffed and Sothe's eyes suddenly widened, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. Micaiah smiled despite herself, knowing he never could handle tears.

There was a flash, like a burst of light. A warm feeling ran through her bones and then a castle engulfed in fire appeared within her mind. She recalled it from before but now she _understood_ what it meant. Stomach ploughing uncomfortably, Micaiah turned to Sothe, tears forgotten.

"Sothe, we need to prepare the defences. We are going to be attacked!"

~~X~~

The rain began as the fight did. The droplets pounded down upon their heads, drowning the fields and dampening their clothes. Soren twisted out of his stirrups and jumped to the cobbles. While there was definite advantage to being higher, he was too inexperienced in horse-riding to be able to fight effectively.

Ike plopped down beside him, a puddle soaking his boots. His hair was already sticking to his forehead. Soren forced his thumb between the pages of his tome, pushing it open with a simple flex of his wrist.

An arrow whistled through the air. Raising a hand, Soren's uttered a spell – his words fast from experience. Wind boomed from the tome's pages, knocking the thin wood from its path and into a hut wall with a faint _thunk_. Ike grabbed for his sword as the rest of their soldiers either abandoned their mounts or fought to protect those dismounting.

"Soren, stay beside me," Ike ordered – not requested. Although Soren was technically the one in charge, Ike had spent too many years issuing commands for his authority to be put into question now. The mage stepped behind him wordlessly, eyes scanning the hut roofs and open windows for hidden reinforcements before the true fight fell upon them.

A man with greying hair was the first to connect his feet to the cobbles, only pausing a moment before he rushed towards them. Rolf nocked, aimed, shot and the attacker fell without a hint of grace. Another ran from between two huts, axe held high to cut Ike down. Before Soren could finish his spell, Titania had already swung.

By the time Ike's sword first connected with an enemy, the rest of their attackers had revealed themselves. Trapped out in the open, Soren considered their next move as he raised his tome again.

Wind whistling in his ears, crying louder than the battle, Soren weaved spells like he spoke words; fast, sharp and accurate. Ike was a distant blur from within his magic's cocoon but Soren kept an eye on him at all times, no matter how many times Ike proved his own experience with battle.

His airy onslaught was cut short by an orb of fire. Unaware of the rebel's presence, the blast struck Soren square in the back; knocking the air from his lungs but not so much as leaving a mark on his skin. Oscar lunged through the crowd, striking down with his spear before the rebel could think to murmur another enchantment.

Ike half-turned, eye still watching for enemies but the other watched him. "You good?"

"Yes, Ike."

An axe clashed against his sword before he could inquire further. Soren knocked him across the battlefield with a well-aimed spell.

The assassins were fast, skilled, yet smaller in number than their initial estimates. It was easy to distinguish them from their ability alone, as well as the cloaks they donned. However, their enemy were not made up of solely the Bloodied Thorns. Those who had joined the call for a rebellion had also joined the ambush yet their lack of skill was noticeable and they were easily dispatched. They exhausted them more than killed them.

 _'Getting caught into a fight of stamina could be bad for us',_ Soren thought as the first of the thorns came upon him. Knife sailing above his head, Soren sank down to the bloodied cobbles before aiming a well-aimed kick to the assassin's leg, knocking him to the ground. Ike, who must have noticed the exchange, stabbed the cloaked man before he got the chance to counter.

Ike's hand was cold as he yanked him back onto his feet.

One of the Daein knights fell off his horse, arrow lodged into his neck. Rhys, visibly pale from all the blood, shot an orb of light from his to avenge him.

"Ike! Soren!" Not stripping their eyes from the fight, they nodded to say they had heard the crimson-haired paladin. Her horse's hooves somehow echoed louder than the battle cries. "What are our orders?"

"We won't last out if this goes on for much longer," Ike said. An assassin entered the corner of his vision, cutting the rest of his words off. Between two huts, Rolf fell to the floor, his arm bleeding. Aiming despite his position, he shot an arrow into an assassin's eye with a horrible crack.

Soren glanced across the battlefield, at the quickly thinning civilians-turned-freedom fighters and the looming assassins. The assassins' skill had kept the Thorns' losses noticeably small. Meanwhile, although the Greil Mercenaries were all in good health, many black-armoured Daein knights had joined their countrymen on the bloodied cobblestone street.

"Titania," Soren said. Titania sat taller at the address. "Can you see the Bloodied Thorns' commander? He will likely be dressed slightly differently from his under-men."

"Ummm…" She scanned her eyes across the village. "…Ah! He may be the commander."

"Ike-" Soren began when an assassin appeared from a nearby shrub and suddenly he was on the ground, the cobbles digging awkwardly into his back despite his robes. He saw a knife and he raised his hands, catching the wrists before they could slam down.

Drawing back his knife, the cloaked assassin stabbed down again. Soren caught the wrists for a second time after a momentary fumble, the knife now slightly closer to his neck. Hands shaking under the assassin's strength, he grunted as he attempted to push the assailant back.

Suddenly, there was a flash of blue and the assassin gargled, knife falling from his hands.

Soren pushed him off before he could spit on him.

Cold hands found his arm again and raised him from the ground. Soren cut off questions about his safety with a simple, "We need to go for their commander, Ike."

Ike nodded and that was that.

Navigating through the narrow Marado streets was difficult. Although the two of them were rather unassuming in the grand scheme of the battle, they were constantly forced to stop and fight as someone swept in from the side to attempt a quick jab to the throat or another attempted to fell them from above.

Despite the stiffness that had hung in the air between them recently, they fought together as well as they always had. Guarding each other's backs, their defence was exceptional and offensive somehow even more so. They fell those who came across them with the speed and precision only born from years of careful practice and trust. Although they were only a force of two, they decimated all who crossed them.

"Soren, Darbok is up ahead."

Pages of his tome damp from the rain, Soren shook the water from his face.

Darbok was much different to what Soren had imagined. As the head of an assassin's guild, Soren had imagined a mountain of a man with daggers in his eyes and a straightness to his lip.

"Ah, King Ashnard's orphan. I expected someone fiercer," the assassin said.

But, as with all expectations, they tended to get broken.

Darbok was surprisingly short, barely taller than Soren himself. His face was remarkably scar-free (although the same couldn't be said for his arms). With damp grey hair above his brows, he smiled bitterly at them. "I will never understand why all Daein royals recently have had the constitution of wet tissue paper."

He reached for his scabbard, pulling free two knives. They looked almost pitiful compared to Ike's sword.

Not humouring him with a response, Soren prepared his tome. Ike studied the man with a scowl.

Then, Ike dove forward.

_"Winds, heed my call and cut through my enemies."_

Ike clashed against the assassin with a spark, knives somehow managing not to give under the weight of his sword. Soren raised his hand, intent on slicing the man's leg.

Darbok shoved Ike away with a sharp push, evading the windy blast with a step to the side.

"Ike, capture him if you can. However, if that proves too difficult, we can afford to kill him."

"Right."

Darbok scowled at him but he was too quickly put on the defensive to comment.

Darbok rarely went in for a strike, Soren quickly noticed, but when he did it was when Ike was at his most vulnerable like when he tripped against the cobbles, or his sword sailed clean over Darbok's head. Soren gripped his tome harshly, holding back on his onslaught for those vital moments.

Chips wore into Ike's sword. Soren hoped it was new enough to last.

Darbok's knife sliced across Ike's arm and he hissed. Soren threw another wind spell in retaliation, finally managing to knock him from his feet. More blood joined the ground. Corpses piled up behind them at an amazing pace.

Ike rushed forward and his sword was against Darbok's chest before he could even think to stand. His bleeding arm shook from exertion and pain. Soren wasn't watching Darbok's irritated expression but, instead, he watched the trail of blood which ran down Ike's forearm, down his hand and across his sword's cracking hilt.

"Surrender," Soren called to the downed assassin, eyes still watching the gentle dripping. "Call off your assassins."

Darbok raised his head, his face passive. Soren opened his mouth to repeat himself.

"Soren!"

Suddenly, an arm looped around Soren's throat, cutting off his other orders. The arm was muscular and cold, crushing his last breath of air out with a simple push. Soren gasped and pushed back but there was no give; momentary panic and shock making it hard to think of a quick retaliation. Something cold, colder than skin, pressed against the back of his neck. Soren stilled.

"Release him," Ike said, voice calm but there was a viciousness, a heat to his words that made even Soren shudder. "Release him now."

"Not on your life," the man behind him answered, not even the slightest bit intimidated. The knife was pressed harder against his neck. "Surely we can come to some sort of arrangement? Your prince for my leader?"

Soren struggled against his arm, not for the first time angry at his pitiful strength. The knife was dragged ever so slightly across his skin, hot blood dampening his hair.

Ike watched Soren's struggling and he pressed further with his sword as his own warning. Darbok grunted. "Fine. Just release him."

"How do I know you will let my leader go?"

"I am Ike of the Greil Mercenaries. If you know a thing about me, you know that I keep my word. You, on the other hand…" Ike raised his gaze, glaring harshly at the man. "You I have no choice but to trust."

"Release my leader first."

"No. We release them at the same time?"

"…Very well."

"Like you can be trusted," Soren grunted, giving up on his futile struggling. The silent ferocity in Ike's eyes weakened slightly. "You will just kill me the moment he lets him go."

The knife was digging pretty deeply now, almost deep enough for there to be a danger. A silent warning. _Say one more word and you join the corpse pile._

"On the count of three," Ike said.

_One_

_Two_

_Thre-_

The whistling of an arrow caught Ike's count short and Soren buckled under the weight of the man. However, Ike's sword was already raised. With another swipe of his knife, Darbok had freed himself and began to run towards the surrounding forest.

"Retreat! Retreat!" he cried but didn't look back.

Blood dripping into his eyes, Soren grunted. The body practically crushed him, bruising his body against the harsh stone beneath. For a few moments, all he could see was the bloodied cobbles, the shadows of his hands.

Then Ike came and pushed the body off. An arrow was perfectly wedged into the back of the assailant's head, his eyes wide with shock. Soren breathed in despite his bruised ribs.

"Soren, are you alright?"

Soren, air knocked free from his lungs, nodded, knowing that didn't quite hold the same weight without words. The anger had vanished from Ike's eyes, replaced with the gentle concern only he was capable of.

"You are bleeding quite a lot. We need to get you to Rhys." Soren opened his mouth to attempt to ask when Ike said, "The Thorns are retreating."

"…alright." His voice sounded raspy and weak to his ears. The mage inwardly cringed. Annoyance at himself for getting captured only added to his irritation but he forced down that feeling, labelling it unhelpful.

Suddenly, there was the clack of boots behind them. Ike raised his brow as he aided Soren to his feet. "Shinon?"

The pieces, scrambled from his fall, clicked together instantly at the mention of the man and Soren was a mixture of both surprised and a little annoyed. He really didn't want to be in _Shinon's_ debt.

Shinon didn't seem too happy either.

"I can't believe you let him go! Stupid whelp! We could have had them both!" Shinon said, voice thick with irritation.

"I didn't know you were there," Ike said simply, unperturbed by Shinon's annoyance.

The crimson haired sniper turned to Soren, eyes narrowed. "I will remember this. Don't go thinking this was some kind gesture – I will be repaid."

"You always are," Soren muttered.

Shinon turned on his heels and walked away into the bloodied streets, bow strapped across his shoulder with a quick movement of his arm.

The rain, which still hadn't ceased, continued to pound down upon their heads; washing the streets and crying for the losses that had occurred. Ike placed Soren's arm across his shoulders, bowing his head slightly to meet the mage's height.

"Let's go."

They stepped around Soren's assailant without a second glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter... wow, it was a struggle. I am bad with fight scenes. But I did it! And the finale of the story is finally in sight! I thank everyone for their patience with my tardiness.


	14. Chapter 14

The battle hadn't even started yet and already the halls of Daein Keep were filled with the clashes of weapons and armour. Soldiers and guards rushed down the halls, trying to prepare the keep as best they could for the upcoming battle. Nothing could be done about the lack of time they'd been given to prepare, but Daein was known for its military might. Even underprepared, they would keep up a strong defensive.

"I think it's safe to presume the Thorns will be the ones to attack the keep," Micaiah said, peering over the plans spread across the table.

"I don't know who else it could be," Soren said. "Although I don't know how they plan on getting in. Darbok may still be alive but many of his men are dead. Not only that, his loss should demoralise anyone from joining his foolish coup. He does not have the forces to breach the walls. To attempt to do so would be ludicrous."

Micaiah seemed contemplative for a moment, thumbing the edge of one of the maps. "Maybe he will try to rally more support first. I don't know. I will ask Fiona and the other lords to keep an eye out for anything suspicious."

Soren nodded. "That's perhaps the best thing to do before we know more."

"Alright," Micaiah said. "Thank you for the help."

Soren nodded again before standing from his chair. Ike stood too and left with him. Ike had mostly observed the discussion and kept his comments minor. Soren supposed he was still tired from the events of the day before.

As the doors of the hall shut behind them, Ike asked, "Why are you helping in this battle?"

Soren raised a brow, pressing him on.

"You usually have some sort of angle," Ike clarified.

"I thought you'd be pleased," Soren smirked. "You have been trying to get me to help people out of the goodness of my own heart for years."

Ike raised his own brow. "Is that what this is?"

He was right to be sceptical.

Soren shook his head. "It wouldn't be safe to just leave now. Darbok knows what we look like and I'd rather us take our chances in a fort than beyond."

Besides, with Micaiah alive, his renouncement was all but secured. The decisions he'd made in office were few yet controversial, made with being that in mind. Although adding motive for a civil war was not part of the plan, Soren doubted his departure would be too strongly missed.

Ike looked contemplative for a moment before he shrugged. "Just as well. It wouldn't feel right to abandon Daein now. Let's just hope this is the last of our problems."

"Agreed."

They turned another corner and the silence grew. Soren thought that Ike might want to leave it at that. Walking in silence was a common enough thing with them, especially recently, and Soren wasn't going to breach whatever line had grown between them in the last few weeks.

It was always Ike who broke those lines.

Yet, Ike – for all his blunt ways and hatred for leaving uncomfortable situations be – had seemingly stopped trying to reach him.

The realisation gave him pause. Maybe he was finally considering Soren's words of departure. Maybe he was preparing himself to leave Daein behind. To leave Soren behind.

If that was the case, he couldn't find it in himself to be surprised. However, the hurt still spread like acid in his veins.

"…I'm sorry, what?" Soren mumbled distantly, only half aware that Ike had said something.

"I said, do you know what time that dinner is?"

Soren blinked, mind slowly catching up. After Micaiah awoke – despite her vision of ill news – a small dinner was planned to celebrate her return to health. Who had actually put forward that idea was anyone's guess. It was a ridiculous notion to him; to waste time planning a dinner with the enemy practically knocking on the castle gates.

"Soren?"

"Oh, sorry. Seven, I believe."

Ike gaze remained on him for a moment and Soren knew he was making himself seem questionable by losing himself to thought.

"Alright," Ike said, choosing not to take the matter up. "Thanks."

Soren nodded but said no more.

* * *

In all honesty, Soren had almost forgotten Elincia was there. They ran into each other through sheer coincidence. Soren, heeding Rhys' advice, had taken to walking cycles around the fort to ease any building stress. While it hadn't done much to help, Soren found the walks were a decent distraction from his mess of a situation.

What Elincia was doing was rather obvious. She sat among the spiralling thorns of the castle gardens, a small wooden instrument placed between her lips, and she was playing a small tune which Soren had never heard before.

Even Soren would admit Elincia was playing decently. She was far from a professional musician but the tune came out unstilted (mostly) and it was a sweet-sounding piece.

"Soren?" a man asked. Elincia stopped in her playing. Soren spied Geoffrey then; sitting against one of the stone pillars to the far side.

"Indeed," Soren answered, stopping.

Elincia offered a small smile, folding her hands in her lap, her instrument buried under her fingers. "Nice to see you, Prince Soren. I thought we might not get a chance to talk again before we had to leave."

"A lot has been going on. It can't be helped."

Elincia's smile dropped a little. "Yes, that's true."

Soren hummed.

Geoffrey rose from the floor and wiped at the dirt which had settled on his legs. He was wearing full armour despite being within the confines of the castle walls. He may be engaged to a queen but he was clearly a knight at heart.

"Elincia was playing the Crimean national anthem. Have you heard it before?"

Soren shook his head. "My studies in Melior didn't extend to national music and it doesn't seem particularly well known outside the court."

"That's a shame," Elincia said. "It's a wonderful piece of music. The lyrics bring me hope for a flourishing Crimea, free from hatred and poverty."

Years ago, Soren would have told her that was children's talk; implausible and idealistic. Now, though, he had learned the value of foolish hope. It may be a misleading emotion most of the time and often distorted cold logic, but it was a powerful motivator.

So, instead of dismissal, he said, "If you played it during meetings with the public it might become better known. The citizens of Crimea may take the same message home as you have."

Elincia stared at him for a moment longer than Soren would have liked. "Yes… that's a good suggestion. Thank you, Prince Soren."

Soren nodded before inclining low at the waist; not low enough to undermine his own position but not high enough to undermine her. He wasn't so ignorant as to disrespect her with Geoffrey monitoring his every action. "Until next time, Queen Elincia."

Elincia nodded, also bowing slightly. "Until next time."

Soren turned and continued his walk down the hall. Elincia began playing as soon as he left and the sound followed him as he walked, lifting the dour mood if nothing else.

* * *

Dressed in crimson velvet robes, Soren knew he looked ridiculous. The robes hung off his frame awkwardly, too tight in some places and too loose in others. They were far too heavy for someone of his constitution and they made it slightly harder to walk. Furthermore, the weight dragged his shoulders down and a heavy ache began to run down his arms within minutes.

"You look fine," Ike said, though he didn't seem much happier with his own clothing. The fitters had been sent elsewhere for the night, though they had provided clothing. They just couldn't fit them. "Stop worrying about it."

"I look like a child trying on his father's dress robes," Soren said dully.

The corners of Ike's lips curled into a smile. "I'd say you look more like a child dressing up as a king."

"Ike!"

Ike shrugged. "If you can't beat them, join them. Besides, you are being too harsh. They don't look that bad. Sure, the robes you wore that other time were nicer, but those are doable."

Ike's words did nothing to give Soren confidence. He sighed deeply through his nose. "If anyone makes a comment, I'm leaving."

"Like you'd need such an excuse to leave. We're eating with Daein nobles – perhaps the most annoying nobles on the continent of Tellius. Them so much as looking in my general direction makes me want to run the other way. At least the other mercenaries were invited too."

"'Most annoying of nobles? _'_ High praise. You must be forgetting Melior."

_"I'll never forget Melior."_

Soren let out a curt laugh and it surprised him for a moment. The conversation felt oddly nostalgic and, for a moment, Soren found he could forget the stiffness in the air when they talked sometimes. He can't help but be reminded of when they first arrived in Nevassa.

…That felt like a lifetime ago now.

Brushing the thought away, Soren asked, "Anyway, are we ready to go?"

"Yeah, just one more thing."

"Yes?"

"You forgot to put your circlet on."

* * *

 The dinner was organised in one of the more obscure rooms of the keep. While the room wasn't small, it lacked the grandeur of the ballroom and meeting hall. The room's only notable features, in fact, were a large oak table set in the middle of the room and the numerous windows which lined the walls; filling the room with light.

Or, at least they would if it were daytime. The only thing the windows allowed in now was the dim of moonlight.

Soren also noted, with no short amount of horror, that there was a rather unexpected guest joining them for the celebrations. Almedha sat on the far end of the table, clearly trying to do anything but look at him. Soren almost bolted the second he saw her, but Elincia and Geoffrey entered moments after them and her entrance was enough to draw attention to their arrival; making a clean escape practically impossible.

"Don't worry about her," Ike said. "I don't think she plans to say anything to you, anyway."

That information did little to make Soren feel better but he accepted it as truth.

The Greil Mercenaries were also joining them for the celebrations. Soren could hear Ike sigh with relief as he noticed that he and Soren were to be sat right in the middle of them, a fair distance away from the nobles. They wouldn't be able to escape them entirely, but distance was enough for comfort.

Seated between Ike and Sothe, Soren settled back in his chair.

As soon as everyone was sat, the servers emerged from the kitchens; carrying wine bottles in their hands. Two poison checkers followed them out, pouring a drop from each bottle into a glass to check before allowing it to be distributed.

Almedha seemed a little too eager to take up her wine glass after the servers were finished, earning her a couple of strange looks. She didn't seem to particularly care for them, nursing the glass in her hands as Micaiah began.

Soren raised his glass, red wine almost dripping down the rim. He wondered fleetingly why the servers would fill it so high but one glance around told him that his wasn't unique in that sense.

"I'd like to propose a toast," Micaiah said. "To the future prosperity and health of our nation. To Daein!"

"To Daein!" the table returned. Soren raised the glass to his lips but did not drink. He had no love for alcohol. Ike had clearly done the same and he pushed the cup away with a disgruntled look.

Almedha moved the cup away from her lips and glanced into it; seeming confused. Soren supposed it hadn't met her standards.

"Now, let us dine on the fruits of our fair nation."

The food was very good. Even Soren, infamous for hating every dish placed before him, didn't mind it. Ike was eating so fast he was barely chewing and he spent most the meal absorbed by it. The sentiment must have been shared by the rest of the table, as chatter was kept to the absolute minimum.

 _'So, this is how you silence nobles,'_ Soren thought to himself. _'You feed them.'_

"You done already?" Boyd asked, sounding surprised. Soren glanced up from his soup to see who he was addressing.

"Yeah… I'm not really hungry," Mist answered. Soren looked back down to his food.

"You good? You look… white."

Mist wiped the back of her hand across her head. "I'm… I'm fine. I just feel a bit weak, for some reason." Boyd stared at her. That was enough to catch Ike's attention and he offered them a sidelong glance.

"Maybe you should go rest, Mist," Rhys said, mouth thin with concern. "You are looking rather pale. I'm sure Micaiah wouldn't mind."

Mist hummed. "Yeah, you're right. I probably just need more sleep."

She placed her hands against the table and moved to push her chair back but, for some reason, she remained still. Soren looked up to watch again. Mist remained still in her chair.

Then, a whisper, "Oh..."

"What?" Ike asked.

"Ike… Ike, I can't move. I can't move. Ike, I can't move! Oh goddess, I can't feel my legs."

With every word, Mist's voice progressed from a whisper to a frantic shout. Her eyes wide and almost full of tears. Seconds later, her neck gave and her forehead hit the table.

"Mist!" Boyd practically shouted, shaking her shoulder. Others at the dinner turned to watch. "Mist!"

"Boyd… Boyd, I—"

"You're going to be okay, Mist," Ike said. Soren didn't know how he was doing it but his voice was eerily calm, like everything truly was okay. Like Mist hadn't just collapsed upon the table.

"What's going on here?" Sothe demanded, standing. Then, suddenly, one of the nobles went limp; hitting his head against the side of the table. Blood dripped down his forehead. One of the nobles nudged him, panic slowly setting in. Suddenly, Geoffrey went pale and it took only moments before he fell still too. "Geoffrey!" Elincia cried in anguish.

Almedha straightened, eyes slightly wide. "The wine!"

"Sorry?" Micaiah asked, frozen in place. Another noble slid to the floor. Panic was in full force now as more people dropped. Paleness had begun to set into Shinon and Gatrie's complexion too now and Soren knew it was only a matter of time before they fell. Rhys lifted his restore staff and raised it over Mist's head, to little avail.

Almedha said, "I thought you and your organisers just had bad taste, but the smell of the wine was disgusting. Even I couldn't drink more than a sip."

Soren turned to her, eyes narrowed. Almedha visibly faltered beneath his gaze. His detest for the woman was growing with every mistake she made. "You couldn't have mentioned this sooner?"

Almedha glanced down to the floor. "I'm sorry. I thought nothing of it."

He was about to say something more when Ike cut in, the calmness of his voice finally breaking down. "Save it for later, Soren. We need to figure out what's wrong before we assign blame."

"Isn't it obvious?" Soren said. "There was poison in the wine!"

As he spoke, a Daein soldier burst through the doors, lance gripped in his hand. His helmet sat crooked upon his head and he was breathing harshly. "Lady Micaiah!" He said, ignoring the bodies slumped upon the table. He took a deep breath. "Milady, it's … it's bad… Thorns… they are attacking...! They have infiltrated the guard network… I don't know who to trust, I—Everyone is killing each other!"

Soren was reminded of earlier in his stay, when an assassin had infiltrated his room under the guise of a guard. The incident had majorly been brushed off as a singular incident. However, Soren realised now that corruption had worked its way deep into Daein.

Micaiah blinked slowly and Soren wondered if she was perhaps going into shock. Or maybe she just couldn't think.

"Micaiah!" Sothe pressed her. "What should we do? Micaiah?"

"It's coming true," Micaiah mumbled, expression twisted in horror. "It's all coming true…"

"If we don't do something, it will come true," Ike said. He offered Mist a final lingering glance of concern before moving away from her. "So, what do we do now?"

Suddenly, the poison checkers burst through the doors, carrying knives. No time to plan. They quickly rushed forward, intent on stabbing the weakened people at the table, before Soren sent them into a wall with a burst of Elwind. They crashed into it with a satisfying crack.

Soren turned to the guard. Micaiah was acting way too slowly for his preference. "Try to find Darbok. No doubt he's in the keep somewhere."

"I'll go with him," Titania said. "Safety in numbers."

"As you wish," Soren said. Titania picked up her axe and followed the guard out. Shinon finally slumped against the table.

Boyd looked like he was about to commit murder but he managed to choke down his rage enough to speak intelligibly. "What can we do for everyone who has collapsed?"

Rhys answered before Soren could. "I don't think the wine was laced with poison or my restore staff would have worked in curing it. A nerve agent is a more likely explanation. In that case, it should eventually wear off in a few days. The main risk is going to be from attacks rather than ill health. Maybe we could assign a guard?"

"My child…" Mist murmured into the table. Boyd went very still. "Will my child be alright?"

Rolf eyes somehow became even wider. "You're pregnant?!"

Rhys offered a sad smile, ignoring him. "I'm sure they will be."

Soren couldn't tell whether that was a lie or not.

Ike glanced around the room, probably taking stock of the situation. Most of the nobles had collapsed, along with Shinon, Gatrie, Geoffrey and Mist. Elincia and Oscar were also beginning to look rather pale, so Soren doubted he could rely on them in a fight. That left him, Ike, Micaiah, Sothe; Boyd, Rhys and Rolf as capable fighters on hand.

Ike realised it at about the same time he did.

"How about we guard the collapsed until Titania returns? Then, we charge Darbok with a strike force?" Ike suggested.

"It would be risky," Soren said. "But if we can't rely on the legitimacy of the guards, that is our best option."

"So, we wait for the cavalry?" Boyd said, unsheathing his axe.

Ike nodded.

There was a sudden crash and everyone turned to watch as thirty assassins ploughed through the doors, carrying bows and torches between them. A wind spell was already on Soren's lips by the time they raised their bows to shoot and he sent the spell forward, knocking around five off their feet.

Ike ran forward and stabbed one of the downed men through the chest. Moments later, Rolf shot an arrow at one of the standing men; hitting him in the shoulder. Angered, the man immediately retaliated, shooting an arrow straight through Rolf's hand. The teen yelped in pain.

Rhys was there immediately. He yanked the arrow from his hand and healed it with a quick flourish, allowing Rolf to re-join the fray within seconds.

Elincia, obviously weak but still standing, slashed at one of the assassins before they could come too close to Geoffrey's side. Oscar finished the job with a quick slash of silver before he finally collapsed to the ground.

One of the archers gestured to one of his companions and he offered him his torch. Lighting the tip of his arrow, he nocked it and aimed for one the pillars keeping the room together. Moments later, it flew from his bow; embedding itself into the pillar and causing the first few flames to sprout free from the wood.

Then, he nocked another flaming arrow and shot at the adjacent pillar, and that pillar too began to smoke. The arrow connected just as Boyd sent an axe through the archer's body.

The flames built surprisingly quickly, helped greatly by the wood of the pillars. Within a minute, the small flames became large ones. It was only a matter of minutes before the pillars gave and the ceiling well.

Soren hissed beneath his breath. "Ike, we have to leave." He sent out another spell, knocking yet more assassins off their feet. The other mercenaries proceeded to finish them off.

A sole blast of light magic was enough to finish off the remainder of the group. Micaiah, finally snapped from her shock, had taken on a look of renewed determination. She moved over to one of the slumped nobles and wrapped his arm around her neck.

"Everyone! Help carry those who can't move outside! Hurry!"

They didn't need to be told twice. Ike rushed over to Elincia's side, speaking with her briefly before he moved to grab Geoffrey. Boyd looked like he was going to rush to Mist but Rolf stopped him with a long look.

"Help Gatrie and Oscar. I'm too weak to lift them. I've got Mist."

The sides of Boyd's eyes crinkled and his reluctance was obvious. For a moment, Soren thought he'd say no. Then, he said, "Alright. Look after her."

Rolf nodded as he eased Mist onto his back before he heading for the doors.

Soren coughed on smoke. The room was flooding with the stuff now which, besides making it harder to breathe, made it harder to see. He scanned around the room – all too aware of his own lack of strength – before his gaze settled on the red-haired archer who had saved his life but recently.

"You have got to be kidding me," Shinon muttered. "You, of all people." Soren wrapped his arm around his neck, heaving him to his feet with some effort. It was lucky that Soren had toughened up over the years. He was far from being particularly strong, but he could handle the low weight of the archer as he took his first few uneasy steps forward.

"Consider my debt to you repaid," Soren said. He coughed into the back of his hand.

Shinon grunted and spoke muffled curses.

The outside air was a welcome relief to the smoke of the hall. Soren walked over to the sitting Gatrie and dropped Shinon beside him, coughing the remaining smoke out of his lungs. He glanced around for Ike but found no sign of him.

Then he saw Geoffrey sitting alone on the grass, looking somewhat lost without Elincia at his side.

"Where's Ike?" he asked him, drawing near. Geoffrey registered him with half-lidded eyes.

"He went back inside to get Elincia… ugh, how dare she. She needs to learn that her life takes far more priority over mine…"

Soren turned back to the double doors and waited for Ike to emerge. Smoke spilled increasingly stronger from the windows. However, the smoke that left the room was nothing compared to what remained within.

By the time a few moments became a few minutes, Soren knew something was wrong. His feet began moving automatically. Soon, his steps picked up speed and he was sprinting; eyes locked on the doors with renewed determination.

"Soren! Don't go back in there!" Micaiah called after him. "It's going to come down! Soren!"

He ignored her, throwing himself between the doors just as a flaming beam fell behind him, locking him within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've said I've had writer's block before while writing this fic but no writer's block has ever been as severe as the one I had on this chapter. I literally spent weeks staring at my word doc; knowing what needed to happen but not knowing how. Like, my mind went completely blank on ideas. It has been a nightmare. But the chapter is finally done! And with that, the true final stretch is in sight. It is also a little longer than my usual length to make up for the wait!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you know it's been a long time since you've updated when the original A/N for this was a thank you for reaching 100 kudos! So, thank you for 129 kudos, you guys are the best!

Smoke spilled from the slits of the windows and the wooden beams overhead cracked and turned to ash in the heat. The flames grew rapidly, consuming everything it could touch.

The hall, built with wooden posts, would not last. It didn't matter that it was part of the impenetrable Daein keep – nor did it matter that, were the flames not put out soon, the entire keep itself would fall. The roof supports had been burned so badly it was only a matter of time before they collapsed on top of them.

Soren couldn't see Ike through the smoke and ash. The heat was debilitating and his robes quickly became slick with sweat. He coughed hard into his sleeve, the smoke an irritant which left his throat dry.

He wanted to call out but he didn't. He needed to breathe as little as possible, to keep the air inside his body. What good would finding Ike be if he didn't have the strength to drag him back out?

A beam cracked and fell and crushed the table beneath its weight. Slowly circling around it, Soren scanned the room desperately. Smoke concealed everything. Soren could no longer see the door.

If he didn't find Ike soon, they would both die in here.

Soren swallowed down the scratchiness in his throat.

He came across a fallen beam, still on fire, which blocked off his path. He doubted he had the strength to lift it up. For not the first time, he cursed his lack of muscle. He moved away, lacking direction and almost entirely blind.

Even if he reached Ike, Soren doubted he would be able to spot him through the smoke. Desperation clung to him and he coughed hard into his sleeve. The smoke was festering inside and it got harder to breathe with every step, and it was all starting to get to his head.

If he was like this now, then Ike might have already fallen unconscious.

Ignoring his initial rejection of the idea, he cried "Ike!"

No answer back. The only sound was the crackling wood.

"Ike! Where are you?!"

Nothing.

The corner of Soren's velvet robes nipped the flames. He yanked the corner of his robe away and patted the flame down with his hand, still moving frantically through the room.

"Ike, please!" He called and it was no longer possible to keep down his panic. His heart pounded so loud in his chest, he could almost not hear the small:

"So…ren?"

Soren froze and he span around, hunting for the person behind it. Then he saw it. A spillage of green hair across the floor, body concealed by a fallen beam where it had fallen on her.

"Elincia," Soren said. "Where's Ike?"

A frail cough. Another beam fell somewhere distant.

"Over…" Elincia's voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear. He pushed aside part of the fallen roof and began to clamber over to her, scraping his legs against the sharp edges of the rubble. "He's… over…"

Soren's desperation did not allow him patience. "Just spit it out."

"With… me."

The beam must have fallen on Ike too. His stomach plummeted.

Soren jumped over a fallen chair and finally reached her. She lay still; the beam cracked across her back. Up close, he could see the blood which dripped through her green strands. He lowered himself to her level, practically lying flat. Elincia slowly raised her head to look at him.

She was bleeding. A lot. That was his first thought. It ran down her face like crimson makeup. It distracted him from a moment before he reminded himself of his purpose.

"He's…" Elincia's eyes drooped. She shook her head. "Under the rubble… there…"

He twisted and crawled a little to the right, toward where she had directed. He couldn't even see him. "Ike?" Soren said, standing up again. "Ike, can you hear me?"

Nothing. Not even the sound of breath. Soren grabbed the top of the rubble, a stray piece of rock and flung it to the side. Then another. And another. Piece after piece, wood after stone, and still no sign. No life at all.

"Ike, please say something!" The rubble cut into his skin. He ignored it. Blood dripped to the floor. The weight of the fallen roof wreaked havoc on his low muscle. Suddenly, he fell forward onto the rubble, coughing dry and head a daze. "Don't do this, please…"

Suddenly, there was a grunt, a cough. Something in Soren froze. He forced his body up, almost stumbling back.

"Soren… what... where….?"

"Ike!" Adrenalin somewhat renewed, he yanked away at the fallen stone until – finally – he spied Ike's messy blue hair.

Despite being buried in a burning building, he seemed mostly alright. The only mark Soren could see was a cut to his cheek.

"What's go- gods, that hurts!" Ike hissed the last few words. Despite his obvious pain, Soren couldn't help the relief at seeing him actually alive.

He pushed the last remaining stone off until all he was left with was the fallen beam. The same one which kept Elincia trapped. He coughed into his hand, harsh and dry. His lungs were beyond being on fire. The beam was long and heavy, yet had crumbled to ash in places. Soren prayed his arms would be able to take it.

He grasped the end of the beam in bleeding hands and tried to yank, yet his earlier work and the smoke rendered him almost crippled. The beam didn't even give slightly. Heart wild in his chest, he tried again and although the beam cracked, it didn't lift.

Soren fell against it and sweat dripped into his eyes. All he could feel was the pain.

"Soren!" Ike's voice. "You've got to go."

He wanted to voice his objections, he really did, but he was so tired and his throat so dry. He slipped off the beam and thudded onto the floor. His back burned from the force.

"… shut up…" he gasped between breaths, through the pain. "Just shut up, Ike." He dragged himself to his feet again. "I'm not leaving you here. Even if…"

"If you die because of me—"

"I won't leave and let you burn to death! I can't!" Soren yanked at the beam again, still nothing. Always nothing. "You must live. You  _must_."

He began crying then and he cursed himself, Ashera and everything else he could think off. Elincia, Darbock. Daein, Almedha. Ashnard. Everything that had brought them to this point.

He swore in Ancient tongue and hammered his fist against the beam. He couldn't lift it. That was his reality. The truth hurt more than any pain he'd ever experienced, but he couldn't shy from it. Not now – surrounded by fire and blood and stone.

He slid to the floor, resigned. Tired. He landed just beside Ike's head. "Curse it all!"

"Soren…" Elincia murmured from her place. The lack of focus in her eyes betrayed the fact she was soon going to fall out of consciousness. True enough, moments after she spoke, her head thudded against the floor; unmoving.

Ike's gaze lingered on her, lying there, and a deadness blossomed in his eyes. An acceptance of his imminent death. Soren hated himself more than ever in that moment.

"Leave, Soren. Now."

"No."

"What's the point in you dying too?" Ike seemed angry, maybe scared. Desperate. It didn't suit him. "You tried. That's enough."

"No, it isn't."

"Soren, why won't you just—"

"-If our situations were reversed," Soren said, shouting over the crumbling building. "Could you just leave? Just up and leave me to die alone."

Ike stilled and the anger drained from his expression, like a splash of cold water. For a moment, Soren thought he wasn't going to answer – maybe to hide how he truly felt, and suddenly he regretted asking.

Then, a tired voice said, "No, I couldn't. Even if I wanted to," Ike sighed deeply, coughing on smoke before he continued. "Like when you asked me to leave you in Daein. Leaving Mist and the mercenaries was hard. Leaving you was a different demon, one I couldn't quite conquer unless I absolutely had to. So, I suppose you've got a point. Still, that doesn't mean you staying here isn't amazingly stupid."

Soren laughed, a bitter sound. "I can accept that."

Silence, beside the crackling of the beams. Large portions of the roof had fallen, giving way to the smoking sky. It was a miracle the roof hadn't fallen on top of him already. Settling into place, he closed his eyes – giving into the tiredness and the burning inside his body.

He felt almost peaceful.

That he accepted readily.

* * *

There was movement. Fuss. Hands pressed to his head, a healing staff hovering above his face.

"…-oke…. Mi-…"

He groaned, his chest thick and sore. He coughed.

"…he's waking up!... Ik-"

"…h, yeah..."

He opened his eyes.

Rhys peered down at him, eyes slightly narrowed in concentration. When he saw Soren looking back he smiled weakly and said, "Hello, Soren. How are you feeling?"

In his daze, Soren was left considering that question for a while. Long enough for Ike, a deep blue blur only recognisable from his voice, to ask, "He's up?" Soren blinked out the bleariness in his vision.

"Yes," Rhys turned back to him, eyes soft. "Soren?"

In the moments between waking and then, the tightness in his throat made itself known. As did the pain in his head. The throb of his chest. It felt like he was being pushed down by some kind of pressure which made it extremely hard to breathe.

"Chest…" he groaned, turning to curl in on himself. Ike stopped him with a simple press of the shoulder.

"You inhaled a lot of smoke. Try laying still for a moment. It will help," Rhys said. Soren couldn't really imagine that but he followed his advice, settling back into place.

A Daein soldier rushed over then and whispered something to Rhys; something Soren was too out of it to catch but Ike seemed to understand.

Rhys turned back to Ike as the soldier jogged away. "Could you keep an eye on him for a moment? If he starts looking faint or anything like that, shout and I'll rush back."

"Alright. Thanks, Rhys."

But Rhys lingered for a moment, seeming conflicted. "You should try to rest too, Ike. You still look pale and-"

"Yeah, yeah, will do," Ike offered a wave, an easy smile. "Now go see Elincia."

"Okay. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Rhys stood, turned, and suddenly it was just the two of them and a heavy silence. Ike didn't seem like he wanted to make conversation, but just having him looking down on him was uncomfortable. Soren resisted the urge to fuss with his torn sleeves.

Instead, he looked around and tried to piece together where they were. They were inside but this didn't look like any of the rooms he'd been in before. The décor was basic and a lot of the furniture had been pushed aside, replaced with bed rolls and injured soldiers. He spotted Elincia a couple of beds down (she'd must have been granted a bed) surrounded by Geoffrey and the healers. He couldn't see her face but the fuss told him enough.

He made to sit up to look around more but Ike shot him a look. Soren waved him off. The dizziness was easing now. He didn't need to be coddled.

"Where are we?" Soren found himself asking. His hands ran over the bedroll beneath him. It was oddly comfortable.

"One of the keep's unused storage rooms. Rhys wanted to set up a medical ward for all the injured soldiers and the victims of that poison stuff. Pretty good call on his part." Ike glanced down at his sword, placed carefully across his lap. "The battle's picking up now. I'll be going soon."

"I'm surprised you haven't gone already."

"Rhys insisted. Besides, I wanted to check up on you and Mist. Mist's doing better, but you were... well… not doing better."

Soren pursed his lips, considering Ike. With the bleariness gone from his eyes, Soren could see Ike was paler than usual with more scars to join his old ones. He practically was a spider-web of scars now, each telling its own story of near death.

The thought compelled Soren to ask, "How are you?"

"Considering I had a roof fall on me?" Ike shrugged, then he winced, which seemed to just emphasise what he said. "I'm doing fine. According to Rhys, only a few cracked ribs. He healed them easy enough," then he frowned. "You were worse."

"Ironic," Soren said. "I go in trying to save you and wind up even worse off."

Ike froze for a moment and the action cut Soren off. "By the way," Ike scratched the back of his head, "About that whole 'saving me' thing."

Soren's eyes narrowed. "You're not going to tell me that it was the wrong choice again, are you? We've been over this. I stand by my decision to stay."

"Yeah, well," Ike said. "I'll say it again. It was a stupid move and one which could have gotten you killed; which did almost get you killed. But still… I suppose I should thank you, Soren."

Thanks weren't necessary – not really. It was he who couldn't leave, not Ike who had asked him to stay. Soren offered a small nod because that was all he felt was appropriate.

Ike straightened. "But that's not what I was going to say."

"Oh?" Soren raised a brow. "What was it, then?"

Ike brushed his fingers through his hair. The action made Soren uneasy. "I think you need to thank Almedha. For saving our lives."

Pain dug into his chest, a stillness hung above. "What do you mean, for saving our—"

"She came in and dragged us out. Almost killed herself doing so. The decent thing to do would be to thank her. If only that," Ike said simply. "I won't force you to if you are insistent. Still, she deserves something more than my thanks alone."

But Soren wasn't listening anymore. He glanced around and tried to find her amongst the flurry of soldiers and healers. Finally, he spotted her; sat on a bedroll with bandages wrapped around her hands. She seemed despondent. Soren forced his gaze away.

He didn't know what he felt in that moment.

Maybe he would thank her. But not now. Not yet.

Ike didn't give him time to ponder. "The Thorns apparently infiltrated through the guards. Remember the one that attacked you that night?" Soren nodded. "Well, he apparently wasn't alone. The whole thing has been corrupted. It's disturbing this plot hasn't been discovered until now."

"Amongst all that's happened, I didn't think of that," Soren frowned. "The fault for this lies with me."

"The nobles certainly seem to agree with that," Ike said. "They are just throwing blame around, but let's just say I think they'll happily sign the abdication papers after this."

Soren offered a weak smile. "That's something, I suppose."

Rhys hurried back then, face flushed and sweating. He thudded a little too heavily onto the ground besides the roll and began to prepare one of his staffs. Soren shook his head. "That's not needed, Rhys. I'm fine."

"Oh? Are you sure?"

"Yes," Soren said. "I think I'm going to go join the battle."

"What?" Ike looked incredulous. "Are you serious?"

"I'm not leaving you get yourself killed after all this. Besides, the sooner this is won the sooner we put this whole thing beside us," Soren said. He searched the floor for his tome and secured it to his belt.

Standing was tricky, what with his stiff muscles and aching body, but there was very little pain. He glanced down at Ike who watched as Soren stood above him. "Ready?"

Ike didn't respond immediately but he smiled when he did. He stood, and suddenly it was Soren looking up again.

"Yeah."

* * *

 Almedha watched them leave; watched as the tattered robes of her son fluttered away. He was lucky that was largely the extent of his injuries.  _She_ lucky that was the extent of it.

Her chest hurt more than her burned hands.

Micaiah had tried to comfort her before she'd left to join the battle. Almedha had largely dismissed her. After Pelleas, she never could bring herself to like Micaiah much. Now, though, she wished she hadn't.

She wanted a drink but after what had happened she couldn't bare to look at a bottle. Everything that had happened, happened because she'd said nothing about that wine.

If she had said something, maybe her son wouldn't have almost died. Maybe she wouldn't have given him more of a reason to hate her.

She carefully dropped her veil over her face before letting the tears roll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer is literally on the precipice of a meltdown and I'm honestly doing everything I can to finish this fic before that happens! I literally wrote this chapter through my TV monitor because my computer's is just dead. Here's to hoping it holds together long enough for me to release the final chapter, at least.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Nearly a year later, I finally get around to updating…)

Soren didn't know how long he was unconscious for but the moment he and Ike stepped into the hall, he knew some time had passed. The smoke which had clogged Daein's halls was now reduced to nothing more than a thin mist which stained the air gray, like a fog. They squinted through it as they ran, ears open for the clangs of sword and armour.

Having a fight in here would not be ideal, especially injured as they were. Soren's skin ached with phantom burns and though he was trying to hide it, Soren's keen eye could spot the limp in Ike's step.

Speed, then. Not haste.

"So, where should we head for?" Ike said, hand wrapped tight around the hilt of his sword. "We'll be here forever if we check every room."

Soren thought for a moment before he said, "We don't know much about Darbock. We don't know if he's a man who will fight with his men or leave them to do the fighting. It's hard to make guesses when we know so little."

"He joined in during the fight in Marado," Ike said, narrowing his eyes. "Can't we assume he'll do the same here?"

"He almost got himself killed in Marado," Soren said flatly. "He might not want to repeat that mistake."

They stopped just before a sharp turn into another hall, near the gardens. It was generally a bad idea to turn quickly around sharp corners in a war zone. Ike stuck out his hand in a signal of 'wait' and Soren nodded, pressing into the wall. Ike slowly peered around the corner.

"It's clear," he said, and then they were off again.

They repeated this for the next few halls, their progress slower than Soren would have liked. He just wanted this fight to be over with. He wanted to say goodbye to fighting and courts and expectations.

Darbock and his men were the only thing which stood between them and that end.

"I'm going to guess you have a place in mind," Ike said, "since we're still moving and all."

"The throne room. If he's going to be anywhere he'll probably be right in the centre of it all."

"…and if he's not in the throne room?" Ike frowned.

"We'll work that out if it comes to it," Soren said, because he honestly didn't know what the plan was should Darbock not be there or even if he wasn't in the keep at all.

Suddenly, there was a scream, high and pained. It sounded like a woman. They both stop and their boots squeaked against the marble. "Was it just me or did that sound like…?" Ike trailed off.

"Mhhm," Soren affirmed. "It's her."

Ike rushed forward, all pain forgotten, and Soren followed soon after. His eyes snapped around for enemies who might try to sneak up on Ike with his back turned. There was another scream and then they rounded the corner to see Micaiah knelt on the floor, covered in blood, with Sothe limp in her lap.

But she wasn't alone.

An assassin stopped and turned to look at them, face obscured by purple cloth. He lifted his knife high and Soren could see him aiming it towards Ike's head. Soren raised his tome and didn't even register uttering a spell before wind escaped the book.

Ike turned the blade to slice at his attacker just as the knife flew forward. Soren stared as his spell collided with the knife mere milliseconds before Ike did. All momentum destroyed, it fell to the floor.

The assassin fell moments after.

"Good job," Ike said, eyes wide in a way which only came from a quick brush with death. Soren nodded before he looked down at the maiden who sat silent in a puddle of blood.

Micaiah was rigid, unblinking and pale. Blood ran down her arms but Soren couldn't tell if it were her own or Sothe's. Ike knelt down beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She jumped at the contact.

Ike was silent for a moment. "Are you okay?" he said.

"He's dead…" Micaiah murmured, but she didn't look at Ike. She seemed almost transfixed by the body in her arms. "The dream came true… he's dead… I tried to heal him but he's too…"

Soren had seen many dead bodies throughout the wars and he knew what death looked like. He'd seen the emotionless eyes, the skin so pale it looked translucent… Sothe fit that description well. He looked dead. Worse than that, he'd spilt so much blood across the floor it would be nothing less of a miracle should he have any left.

Still, death sometimes came and left some life behind.

So, he asked, "Does he have a pulse still?"

"A what?" Ike looked at him like he'd spoken a different language.

Soren reminded himself that Ike knew nothing of medicine. "Put your fingers on the side of his neck. Do you feel his heart?"

"Uhh…" Ike looked over at Micaiah and Soren could see him asking permission but she offered nothing. Soren supposed it wasn't too surprising that she was in shock, though it was inconvenient considering they were trying to potentially save his life.

Realising that Micaiah wasn't going to answer, Ike looked back at Sothe and winced, like the sight brought him physical pain. Soren supposed it almost did.

Ike placed his fingers against his neck.

"Do you feel anything?"

"I… think so, yeah. Maybe something faint."

Soren removed his staff from his robes, grateful that he remembered to bring it when he'd left the medical tent. "Put him on the floor."

Micaiah practically had to be pried away but soon, Sothe was lying against the floor. After finding the source of the blood (a long jagged line across his back) Soren raised the staff up and closed his eyes and let blue light flood the room. At first, nothing seemed to happen. Ike watched with dread.

Then, the wound slowly -  _very slowly_  - began to mend, one patch of skin at a time. As the light from his staff began to dim, he whirled it again. He repeated the motion over and over again.

It took several uses of his staff. In fact, it took almost all of them. Yet, by the time he lowered it, Sothe was no longer bleeding nor was he as pale as before. He was severely injured still, but he wasn't actively dying.

Micaiah blinked slowly. Then she looked up at him.

"Is he…?" she whispered.

"He has a chance," Soren said, tucking his staff into his robes.

Micaiah mouth twitched and made several motions but no sound left her lips. With a shaking hand, she reached out to grab Sothe's and clutched it tightly in her own.

Suddenly, there was a clatter of horse hooves in a nearby hall. Soren stood up and readied his tome.

That's when a guard rounded the corner, with Titania atop her horse at his side. It took Soren only a moment to recognise him. He'd sent him to find Darbock the moment everyone had become paralysed, before the hall burst into flames. How fortunate that they should run into them now.

Titania sighed with what sounded like relief. "It's good to see you both. We heard what happened at the hall. Is everyone alright?"

"Everyone's fine," Soren said, not that it really mattered now. They had more important things to deal with. "Did you find him?"

"Yes," Titania said. "He's fighting in the throne room. The other mercenaries are already there."

"Just like you thought," Ike directed his way, running a hand through his hair. Even if they were already heading in that direction, it was good to have confirmation. Ike gestured to Sothe and Micaiah, who remained just as frozen as Sothe did. "Can you take them to Rhys? Sothe's been hurt pretty bad."

"Are you two going to go head straight to Darbock?"

Ike nodded. "That's the plan."

Titania seemed to hesitate, like she wanted to argue against it. She fixed Ike with a look Soren didn't quite understand, almost like she was analysing his expression. She let out an almighty sigh. "Alright. Be careful, both of you."

Ike offered a smile, "No need to worry. We'll be back soon."

Ike turned to him with a quirk of the brow, a silent question whether he was ready. Soren was about to nod when there was a quiet murmur.

"Wait."

Soren turned and laid eyes on Micaiah, who stared up at them. Her eyes were like steel. Memories of fighting on a swamp flooded into his mind. He could see how she clutched Sothe's shoulder, her knuckles somehow whiter than her pale skin. "I can fight."

Ike looked like he was fighting down surprise. "You sure about that? I don't want you to faint or something. It's understandable if you're not feeling prepared."

"I'm prepared enough," Micaiah said, expression grim. "These Bloodied Thorns… they have been an enemy of Daein for long enough. As queen, I should be there to see their end."

Ike rubbed the back of his head. "Well, if you're sure."

"Just make sure you don't die, Priestess," Soren muttered. If she died, Soren would be liable to go insane.

Micaiah nodded and glanced back at Sothe, who still lay motionless beyond the ease of his breathing. Soren couldn't see her face but she eventually turned away, picked up her tome from the blood, and stood.

"Let's go," she said.

* * *

The throne room of Daein Keep was known for its cold walls, dark shadows and blood red carpets. It wasn't a particularly pleasant place to stand in. Soren remembered Ike saying it "felt like death in there" back during the Mad King's War. Even with Ashnard gone and Micaiah's influence at the helm, none of those things had really changed.

It felt even colder now, with bodies strewn across the floor. Soldiers fought over the corpses and many fell to join the pile. Soren could see Oscar through the hordes, bleeding from the cheek but fighting on with an uncharacteristic ruthlessness. Boyd was beside him, shouting something to their enemies which Soren couldn't hear.

"Darbock's over there, " Micaiah said, extending her arm out towards him. Darbock hadn't escaped the fighting unscathed, it seemed. His eye bled excessively. It was unlikely he could see through it now.

They could use that to their advantage.

"Ike," Soren said. "Approach him from the front. I'll try to loop around behind him. He'll hopefully be unable to see me with his injured eye."

"What about Micaiah?" Ike asked as he turned to look at her.

"I'll see to the wounded," Micaiah said. "There doesn't seem to be many healers here."

Ike nodded. "Alright. Both of you, be careful."

Ike turned away from them and took off into the crowds, directly towards Darbock. Micaiah fell away behind them and became lost in the people. Soren stood still for a moment before he looked toward where he needed to go.

Soren opened his tome and gestured his hand at the battling rebels.

_"Wind, cast aside my enemies with your sharp grace."_

Wind shot from the tome and soldiers were suddenly thrown aside. Soren ran forward and kept his head low. He weaved between soldiers and weapons, silent to avoid notice. If he caused too big of a commotion he'd be noticed.

Ike had already engaged Darbock, Soren could see. Ike fought almost silently, eyes steeled and mouth set. It reminded him of when he'd gone to fight the Black Knight. That sort of determination only fell over him when he knew a lot was at stake. The only time he seemed to open his mouth was when Darbock's daggers grazed his skin. It was impressive, considering his injuries.

Soren continued to dodge across the battlefield. At one point, a knife grazed across his arm but he quickly turned and threw a spell towards his attacker. He didn't even stop to see if he was dead before he continued on.

He ran until he was finally in position; behind Darbock.

Ike only eyed him for a moment before he looked back to the leader of the Thorns, his mouth somehow even thinner. Soren readied his tome again. They wouldn't have much time.

_"Wind, slice through my foes so that we may know peace."_

He raised his hand and allowed the spell to build against his palm. Ike rushed forward, sword held high. Darbock would be caught between two.

It seemed like he was unaware. He should have been unaware.

Soren didn't know what gave them away. Maybe Darbock expected that they'd have some plan between them, or maybe he'd somehow seen him make his way over. Maybe he was even warned. Whatever happened to alert him, Darbock twisted unexpectedly to the right before he quickly reached out and grabbed Soren's extended hand.

Ike stopped running forward but Soren was only dimly aware of him. Soren wrenched his arm backward as the spell continued to build – now too strong to be stopped - but Darbock's grip was firm. He yanked his arm left, toward Ike.

Soren could see what was going to happen mere moments before it did.

He didn't have time to shout before the spell burst free.

Soren could hear the floor crack as Ike fell, armour clanging. His sword fell out of his hand and skidded across the floor toward him. Soren stared at him – his closed eyes, his closed mouth – and something beyond panic built in his chest. Something more painful. Darbock finally let him go and he fell to the floor with a thud.

Soren twisted and clung at the floor, trying to claw his way forward – to get to Ike's side, to tell him he was sorry, to protect him from the soldiers - when sharp pain burst through his ribs and he fell onto his back.

Darbock put his foot on his chest and pushed down. Soren took a hard breath, closing his eyes against the pain. He then shifted his position, resting his knees on top of his arms and hovering just above his chest.

"You really are frail, aren't you?" Darbock hummed. "I'd have never guessed you were Ashnard's blood." He put a hand around his throat, not tightening his grip but the threat was there. "You should have never come to the keep, kid."

Soren whipped his head around, trying to free himself and look for a way to escape at the same time. He had no weapon. His tome was lost in the chaos.

"I really hate the monarchy, you know," Darbock said. "We all do. You're all weak or greed and it wasn't just Ashnard. I remember that Prince Pelleas. What a joke he wound up being, wouldn't you say?"

Darbock reached into his sheath and pulled out one of his knives. Soren tried to ignore it; to keep looking. He needed to find something. It was his option.

"I'm really sorry about this, kid," he muttered, "but you're Ashnard's wretched blood. I do wish it could have been different."

He raised the knife up.

Finally, Soren saw the shine of metal, close enough to touch. It rested just to the right of them, on Darbock's blind side. It was his only chance.

He wrenched his arm quickly to the side and Darbock's knee stumbled off his arm. He wrapped his hand around the blade, not paying attention to what blade it was, and swung.

He felt the blade connect with Darbock moments before the knife embedded itself in him.

Soren felt very aware in the moments which followed. He'd had many of these moments over the past few weeks – where everything froze and he felt no pain, even though he knew he was bleeding. That there was a knife embedded inside him. Darbock stared down at him. Soren's blade was stuck inside his neck and his hand was still wrapped around the handle like a vice. It was then that he realised that the blade was Ike's.

Pain, a dull throb, began to pound through him; signalling the moment's end. That his shock was over.

Darbock slumped onto the floor.

Ike's sword fell out of his hand. He turned to Ike, at his closed eyes, and he took one long breath before the darkness came in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, this took a long time, didn’t it?  
> This was originally supposed to be the final chapter but I decided to split what I wrote into two parts for the sake of pacing. Don’t worry though. The next chapter will be out in two days, maximum. It’s pretty much done, with the exception to the start of one scene and some editing I need to do.  
> If any of you are still around, I can’t apologise enough for how long this took. It’s been a busy year for me and I decided to put writing on the back burner while things calmed down. I don’t think many chapters are worth a one year waiting time but I hope someone enjoyed this regardless.


	17. Chapter 17

_One month later…_

 

_-Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous-_

_-You endangered this country. You endangered your people—_

_-You allowed for our castle guard to become completely corrupt. It will take weeks to root out any potential rebels which remain in our ranks—_

_-How could you not see the rebellion brewing. You should have put a stop to it—_

_-Four hundred men died. Four hundred deaths are on your head, your highness—_

_-The people despise you—_

_-We should have known that seeking out Ashnard's lost heir would being no shortage of disaster…_

It was almost funny to Soren.

They spoke those words like it wasn't them who wished him to stay in the first place. Like any disaster which had arisen from him being there wasn't entirely their own doing. The hypocrisy of the nobility was as baffling as it was irritating.

Soren decided to tell them as much, cutting through the endless bouts of criticism. They all shoot daggers at him.

"Frankly, I don't understand why you demanded me to rule in the first place," Soren said finally. "You were all aware I had no intention to remain. Just because some of you wished to keep the long line of Daein royal blood intact, it wouldn't have changed this outcome. So, I ask you all again. I wish to abdicate the Daein throne. Please could you not continue to make this difficult."

He knew they would have killed him if they could.

His abdication request was approved within days. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble if they'd just done that before all the mess occurred.

Ike seemed particularly happy with the result.

"It only took a failed rebellion for them to do as you wanted," he said. He rubbed his neck and it struck Soren how impressive it was that Ike had already recovered from his injuries. Beyond the wind spell which had cracked his ribs for the second time that day, his leg injury had kept him limping for days. Not that it was all too surprising. It was Ike, after all.

"You'll need to say goodbye to the mercenaries," Soren said carefully, well aware of the sensitivity of the subject.

Ike hummed, suddenly thoughtful. "You know, I was thinking… the last time we left, I thought it was going to be the last time I'd ever see them again. It made me wonder… do you think we'll actually never see them again after this?"

He did, honestly. They were going far – where no person had journeyed in recorded history – but Soren also knew it didn't have to be that way.

"That choice is yours, Ike," Soren said. "If you want to see them again, we could always come back."

"Always my choice," Ike smiled. "Well, if the choice was yours, would this be the last time?"

Soren didn't even hesitate before he nodded. "It would. The mercenaries are good people but they wouldn't be enough to keep me here. They weren't before this mess and they aren't now."

"Hmm… fair enough."

They walked through Daein's long hallways and talked as they went. As terrible a home it wound up being to them for the duration of their stay, the halls had become familiar to them both. It would be strange to not live within them anymore.

Finally, they reached their destination.

Ike knocked on the door.

"Come in," Micaiah shouted from within, her voice muffled by the wood.

Inside were beds which held the most severely injured from the fighting. Most of the people originally treated here had recovered enough to leave or had been moved elsewhere. Soren could distantly recall the fuss when Elincia was finally able to journey back to Crimea. He'd still been recovering then and had claimed one of the beds for his own.

Now, though, the beds were mostly empty with two exceptions. One bed was occupied by a man with bandages across his face. The other bed was occupied by Sothe, who talked with Micaiah from his bed. Micaiah sat on one of the far beds, her mend staff laid beside her.

"Hello," she greeted when she saw them. "Want me to take a look at it again?"

No, he didn't, but Ike gave him a disapproving look.

Soren walked over to where she sat and joined her on the bed. He reached up to his collar and pulled the cloth across his shoulder, exposing the dark wound which still remained. Scarring was inevitable at this point. The wound had developed multiple infections since he'd received it and it had only recently begun to show real signs of improvement.

Darbock's knife had stabbed him deep in the right shoulder. Since then, the area was plagued by a constant numbness. Micaiah speculated that his knife was covered in a similar nerve agent to what the Thorns had put in everyone's drink, only stronger. Some variation which needed to enter through the blood.

It was fortunate that said stronger variation would not work when consumed, supposedly.

He doubted his shoulder would ever recover to where it used to be. He'd need to learn how to cast with his left arm going forward.

Micaiah lifted her staff and hovered it over the wound. Moments later it came alight and magic seeped into the gap, stitching and mending broken vessels and skin. By the time she was done, the wound looked noticeably better, though the sensation within it remained.

Soren pulled his collar back across his shoulder. Micaiah put the staff back on the bed.

"It should heal on its own now," she said. "Any healing I could offer would just complicate the process."

Soren nodded and made to stand when Micaiah quickly said, "Wait a second."

Soren raised a brow. "What is it?"

"I just… well, you're leaving us tomorrow aren't you?"

"That's our plan, yes," Soren said, his brow still raised. A doubt crept into his mind that maybe she was going to say something which would force them to stay, as had happened so many times recently, but he dismissed that worry as irrational. "What of it?"

Micaiah took a deep breath and slightly bowed her head, hands folded neatly in her lap. Soren shared a quick glance with Ike and he seemed just as confused before she spoke. "I… I wanted to thank you. For everything you've done for Daein… and for me and Sothe. I can't thank either of you enough." Sothe turned to watch them. He was silent but his expression seemed to relay the same sense of gratitude.

For a moment, Soren didn't really know what to say to that. His actions may have benefitted Micaiah but he didn't make his choices with that in mind. She probably – no, she definitely - knew that was the case. Still, here she was, thanking him.

"You can thank me by making sure I'm never dragged back here," Soren said.

Micaiah raised her head, a small smile on her mouth. "As you wish."

* * *

Within days, the abdication papers were signed and sealed and he was officially considered a Prince of Daein no longer. With his title renounced, it didn't take long for the nobility to drop the 'your highness' and make clear just how much of a nuisance he was to them. That was just one part of the reason why he and Ike decided to leave as soon as possible.

Soren threw away the clothes he received and again donned his old mercenary robes. Ike didn't need to be told to follow suit. They retrieved their old bags and shifted through the supplies which still remained in there. They had a couple vulneraries and a few sheets of parchment. They'd need to completely restock their food supplies. They had time for that, though. They were set to leave early the next morning.

"I'll ask Micaiah for something," Ike said as he slung the bag across his back. "Hopefully she'll have some salted meat she can spare."

"Alright," Soren nodded. "I'll head to the armoury, then."

"Okay. See you in a bit."

Ike opened the door turned left, heading for the kitchens. About a minute later, Soren left too, except he headed for the armoury.

Soren thought about what equipment they might need as he walked. He could do with another knife. He'd owned a small knife for cutting meat back when they'd first set out but it had quickly proved itself to be of poor quality. While not strictly necessary, it would be a handy thing to own. Another sword for Ike would also be a good thing to have.

He passed the library and then the gardens before taking a left towards the main armoury. It was a hall he wasn't too familiar with, considering he'd mostly been given his weapon without having to travel to the armoury himself. In fact, the only time he'd been there in person was back during the wars. Still, he could remember the way simply enough.

However, as he walked, he realised that there was a new addition to the hall. A stone archway had been cut into one of the walls and the floor extended out into the cold. A balcony, he theorised. Soren looked into it out of some faint curiosity and that's when he saw her.

Almedha leaned against the balcony with her back turned to him. Roses and vines were wrapped around the stonework, somehow blooming despite the cold. Her arms were lost within the plants and she barely seemed to care about the thorns. There was a small table just to the left of her, painted very carefully in white. The area was very scenic. Perhaps the only place in the keep which could be described as such.

Soren froze upon seeing her out of instinct.

Almedha, possibly alarmed by the sudden stop of his footsteps, turned around almost immediately; mouth set in a way which suggested she was irritated about the intrusion before she realised the intruder was him.

She blinked at him. "Soren…" she murmured. It was impossible not to notice the way her hand had tightened on a rose. She'd probably be bleeding, were it not for the bandages wrapped around her hands.

"I was just leaving," he said, too quickly. Almedha jolted at the words.

"No, no. Please don't! Stay, please! I mean… if you wish to stay, you can. I was just going on my way," Almedha began to walk toward him, as if to prove her intention.

In a way, it was fortunate that he'd run into her here. He hadn't forgotten about the fire; how Almedha had risked everything to come in and save him. To save Ike. It was a debt he could truly never repay. Regardless of his feelings on the matter, of Almedha herself, he owed her something. He owed her  _everything._  That was something he couldn't ignore.

"Before you do, I have something to say," Soren said. Almedha somehow looked even more stricken.

"What… what is it?"

Soren fiddled with his sleeve and ignored the numbness which creeped up his arm from the movement. "I owe you a debt. For saving Ike and I. If you have a request of me, say it now."

"A debt?" She stared at him like he's said something completely unintelligible. She opened her mouth a few times before closing it again, unable to find words. Soren let the silence stand because of that debt, not patience.

Finally, she slowly gestured to the white table crammed into the corner, like she was afraid to even move. "I want the chance to explain... about the past. It's what I've always wanted. Yet if you truly don't want to hear what I have to say… then I'll understand."

Soren had expected her to say something like that. It was why he hadn't seeked her out. It was what she'd always tried to ask of him.

He didn't want to know where it had all gone wrong. Not anymore, even if he'd spent years asking the world for some sort of answer for his misery.  _'No'_  hung on his tongue and he wanted to say it. He wanted to leave, to hiss at her, to run because the truth… the truth was something he was almost scared to know.

Yet…

He looked down at the bandages wrapped around Almedha's hands, where she'd burned herself lifting beams. He thought about Ike, trapped under the wreckage of the burning hall. Thought about his own weakness to help him and Almedha's willingness to save them both, despite him giving her every reason to leave them burn.

Almedha had saved his reason to live.

So, resisting every urge he had to turn away, he nodded.

Almedha's smile was blinding. He regretted his answer almost instantly. She gestured to the chair on the opposite end of the table and he sat down, back perfectly straight, while she took the other. Thoughts of saying 'no' continued to run through his skull but he pressed his lips thin; silent.

Then, with only the slightest hesitation, Almedha began.

The story of his abandonment was a complicated affair.

As a child, Soren (then named Senerio – apparently a customary Goldoan name) was a very sickly child. "The clerics said you'd never survive the winter," Almedha said. "Ignorant, the lot of them. Your veins held two of the most powerful bloodlines in all of Tellius. I never doubted." Soren held his silence.

He strengthened as he aged but Ashnard was an impatient man. He'd expected a strong child, whom he could use as both a pawn and an heir. A child who held draconic strength and abilities.

"Your intellect and magical prowess likely comes – in part – from your Goldoan blood," Almedha mused. "Though we couldn't have known that at the time. You were a frightfully quiet child… and so thin. Ashnard simply looked at you and saw a weak thing he couldn't exploit," Almedha shook her head and glared hard at the table cloth. "Stupid man. Only he could see something as beautiful as his own child and turn up his nose in disgust."

Ashnard, his patience waning, decided that he would have to use other methods to gain Goldoan strength. One night, he took Soren from his crib to use as bait for a trap. He wanted to stage a mock execution to draw Almedha's brother, the Goldoan prince who was often away from their sands, to the castle. He then planned to capture the prince, so that he might finally have the draconic strength he so desired.

Of course, the plan worked.

"The Goldoan prince that was captured was Prince Rajaion, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Almedha said sadly. "He was Ashnard's mount for many years. He… died… on his return trip to Goldoa. I never saw him again after he was turned."

Soren tried to conjure up a dim memory of the prince; injured from the fight and sickly from his years of torment. All he could really remember were his eyes; crimson like his own. Soren had looked upon him for nothing more than a few moments. Then, when the prince's death reached his ears, he'd felt nothing beyond the mild pity which always came with hearing about a death.

He'd had no reason to feel anything. He held no memories of the prince, as terrible as it was to admit.

"He must have known it was a trap," Soren said. "Why would he bother trying to save me? If I understand this correctly, we must have only met a handful of times, if that."

Almedha stared at him for a moment and seemed shocked before her expression crumpled and sadness creeped back into her features. "You are correct. Rajaion only met you once before and that was on the day of your birth," Almedha looked him in the eye. "But you were his nephew. He thought the world of you. You should have seen him after you were just born. He would have given you everything, if you needed it. Even if the price was his life."

Soren kept silent. It was a strange concept him. To give up everything to save a child who didn't even have enough comprehension to be grateful for it. Whom he'd only met once before. Who didn't even recognise him as he lay dying on the floor.

It was strange to think that the dragon prince from all those years ago, who had died pale and limp in Ena's arms, once cared so much for him. Had given up everything for him.

Yet, Soren felt nothing when he died. He hadn't known of all the prince's sacrifices.

He didn't know if felt grateful, sad or disappointed that his life was his own due to a debt he could never repay.

Almedha scrubbed furiously at her eyes before she continued on.

With Rajaion possessing all the Goldoan strength he lacked, Ashnard had no more use for him. He decided to have him killed, "for the weak must be burned out," Almedha said and she shuddered as she spoke. Terrified, she fled out of the castle with him during the commotion, in the vein hope of escaping Ashnard's wrath.

Escaping, however, held its own share of troubles.

"I tried to blend in with the beorc," Almedha recalled, "but I stood out, mostly because of my skin. Daein despised laguz even more twenty years ago. I was often chased out of their towns with knives and pitchforks. This…" Almedha swept her hair back, revealing a long scar across the side of her neck, "was made by a farmer's pitchfork. Every day was a struggle."

Almedha moved her hands from her hair and put them clear on the table. "Yet, you… you were beorc in all except that mark on your head. I thought that if I found someone, you could live a good life. A safe life. Nobody would recognise you as the Daein prince."

Soren knew where this story was going. He knew where this story would end – the painful events which followed.

Though his throat burned he forced out the question, "What was the name of the woman you left me with?"

"Her name was Clair," Almedha said, eyes distant with memory. "She said she'd keep you safe… for a fee. I thought she would take good care of you. So…" Almedha scrubbed at her eyes again, "that's what I did. I told her your name was Soren and that was it. And I never saw you again, until the end of the wars."

Soren bit his lip and forced down all the pain which frothed under the surface. This was the reason. This was the reason why.

"She lied to you," Soren said, voice level even as everything inside burned. "She couldn't stand me. She sold me away, like a slave."

"I'm sorry," Almedha murmured, tears running down her cheeks. "I'm so, so sorry."

Soren clenched his hands and dug his fingernails deep into his palms.

He didn't know what he should be feeling but pain is what stabbed at his heart. His old scars reopened and all the pain he'd felt over the years spilled out from the seams. He hated it. All those years had a reason behind them. A reason which wasn't malicious, but selfless.

She'd done it to protect him. She'd done it because she loved him and wanted to keep him alive.

Then… why…

Why was it still so hard to look at her?

She was the face behind all the pain in his life, a pain he couldn't ever forget. It sat so deep in him, he knew it would lie fresh on his mind even on his death bed. It defined his entire life. Everything – all the hurt he'd ever felt for being Branded – it all now held her face above it all. Her pleading, crying face. When he looked at her, she was a stark reminder of every hurt he'd ever felt for being alive.

It wasn't hate so much that he felt now. She'd done too much for that. She saved Ike, saved him… He didn't hate her.

However, what he felt now when he looked at her was somehow even worse.

It  _hurt_  to look at her.

Yet, even beyond that, he had a new life now. A life with the one who'd been there through everything. The one who'd picked up the pieces which formed Soren and stitched him back together with understanding and loyalty.

His place was at Ike's side. Not Almedha's. He couldn't love her on the same level he did Ike. He could barely talk to her. It brought too much to the surface.

"I can't give you what you want. I can't be a son to you. Do you understand that?" Soren said as levelly as he could manage.

Almedha's face was smothered in tears. She looked at him, eyes pink, and he almost wanted to feel something more than discomfort. Slowly, voice choked, she said, "I knew it was… too much to hope for…" she scrubbed at her cheeks. "I understand, Soren."

Then there was silence and Soren couldn't do anything other than stare at his hands.

"Know that you'll always have a home in Goldoa," Almedha said, voice quiet. There was a scratching sound as she pushed the chair back to stand.

Soren didn't know what to say to that. Once he and Ike left here, he doubted they'd ever return.

Something told him Almedha was already fully aware of that.

In that was the case then this would be the last time he'd ever see her.

She walked over to the archway before she hesitated and turned to look at him once more, "I wish you the very best, Soren… Please believe me when I say that."

Soren nodded and then, just as Almedha was about to step behind the stone, he said something he never thought he'd say to her.

"Thank you."

She stopped for a moment and the words hung between them. Almedha made no movement to turn or to keep walking forward.

Then the moment passed and she walked forward without a word; disappearing from his sight.

He decided not to go to the armoury.

When Soren returned to Ike's side that night, Ike allowed him to rest his head on his shoulder and just think for awhile. He didn't ask questions – not that Soren really had any answers – and merely stared at the wall alongside him.

He thought of many things. His heritage. Daein, the Greil Mercenaries and Ike. Of what he'd gained and what he'd lost.

When Soren finally spoke, emotionally drained and lost, he asked, "Ike… if the cards had fallen differently and I'd been forced to stay here… would you have stayed with me here in Daein?"

Ike was silent and still. Soren didn't challenge it. He knew Ike wouldn't lie, even if the truth would sting.

Then, slowly, Ike tightened his arm around Soren. "As sappy as it sounds… no, I don't think I could have left you alone here. I don't know when it happened, but… you're invaluable to me, Soren. I thought about it, I admit, after what you said… but I didn't want to go on some journey with you here in Tellius. That's why I asked you to come with me in the first place."

Soren was unsure what to say to that. He thought back to when Ike had asked him to come on a journey to seek unknown lands. Ike had seemed so hopeful. Soren never would have dreamed of saying no but even if he had, Ike's look back then had offered him no chance at refusal.

The silence came again but the oppressive feeling which had coiled around his chest gave way and he felt suddenly felt tired. So he closed his eyes, basking in the warmth of Ike, with no intention of falling asleep but drifting away regardless.

* * *

When it came time for them to say their goodbyes, Mist cried so much Ike's shirt became stained with them.

"Can you really not stay for the birth?" she said as she hugged Ike tight around the neck for the millionth time. "I know it's a couple of months yet, but…"

"Mist, you know I want to, but we've put this off long enough. I'm sorry," Ike said and he genuinely seemed guilt.

Mist wiped away a tear. "I'll miss you both," she said as she turned to Soren and clung at his neck, doing her best to strangle him with her hug. For once, he didn't try to bat her away, though his arms remained glued to his sides. Still, that seemed to please her enough. She beamed as she let go.

Titania placed a hand on her hip. "You sure you don't want to say goodbye to the others?"

"Too much fuss," Ike said and Soren nodded in agreement. "It's best if we slip off quietly. Tell everyone we said goodbye, though."

Titania nodded. "We will. Keep safe, both of you, and make sure to write."

"We will," Ike said.

"If we can," Soren added. He didn't even know if they could write from the lands across the seas. Ike waved his goodbyes and they both copied the gesture, though Mist was far more enthusiastic in her waving.

As they turned and walked down the path, Mist shouted after them. Things like, "I love you both" and "I'll miss you," and "don't forget." This kept up until they were long out of sight, when her voice disappeared into the wind.

Then, it was just them and the open road.

They walked for a long time in silence. Ike stared blankly ahead – a sure sign that he was upset. He'd done it after they'd left originally, too, Soren remembered.

"They'll be alright," Soren said. "You know they will."

Ike nodded. He took in a deep breath. "Yeah… you're right…"

They lapsed back into silence again and Soren was left to reflect on the past few months. It was truly strange to be leaving Daein behind. There was a time only recently when Soren had thought he'd be forever trapped in Daein's walls and Ike would be long gone, never to be at his side again.

Yet, Ike hadn't left him. He'd remained.

And now, they had escaped Daein. Together.

"So…" Ike reached to fix the knot on his headband. "Where are we headed?"

Soren pondered that for a moment. "We were talking about the tale of the Sacred Stones before the Ambassador arrived," Soren recalled. "Though I could do more research."

Ike hummed. "We'll see. I say we go back to Peresis and get us a boat, like we'd originally planned. Then we'll just see what places we find. Sound good?"

"That sounds very unwise," Soren commented but his voice was free of criticism. "We don't know what's out there."

"Exactly," Ike laughed. "It's more interesting that way."

Soren offered a small smile. "Alright. If that's what you wish."

"Great," Ike said and he stretched his arms above his head.

The sun, a rarity in Daein, dappled Ike's hair lilac. Ike held out a hand to him and Soren was struck with a hazy memory of childhood. Of the boy who'd helped him when he'd had nothing and no one. It didn't matter where they were going. Not really. All that mattered was the breeze, the freedom and Ike, stood by his side still, even after everything.

Soren took Ike's hand and nodded, which he returned.

Then he looked out onto the road, letting memories of assassinations and crowns and draconic heritages drift away with the promise of freedom. Of adventure. Of Ike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand, we’re finally done. Nearly two years later, with over half that time being spent on these last two chapters alone. Whoops.
> 
> This was a fic which I lost a lot of motivation towards mid-way through. It wound up very different to my initial vision (as earlier chapters may suggest) Still, I’m ultimately happy with how this came out. It was the very first story I made for this pair and it’s been so much fun discovering these characters as I’ve written. It’s nice that even after all this time, I still love these two just as much. 
> 
> For those of you that have stuck around up to this point, I’m sorry for how long this took and I can't thank you enough for sticking around. An extra big thank you to everyone who kudod/commented/bookmarked this fic over its two year life span. Were it not for you guys, this fic may have truly never gotten an ending and I couldn't be more grateful. 
> 
> If you ever want to pester me about writing or Ike/Soren or Fire Emblem in general, I have a tumblr blog over at emblem-oracle.tumblr.com
> 
> So, for one final time, thank you for reading.  
> • emblem-oracle.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at emblem-oracle if you so chooseth :)


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